Life in Paradise
by Jupiter's baby
Summary: St. Marie's new dynamic duo find out that good things can come in unexpected packages. Some S6 spoliers!
1. Chapter 1

_The premise, setting, many of the themes, and most of the characters belong to the creators of Death in Paradise._

 _Happy reading…_

1\. After Eight

The distant horizon was starting to spill into the Caribbean sea, in deep hues of orange and pink. A veteran officer with St. Marie's Honore Police Force, Dwayne Meyers scanned the faces of the four people gathered on the verandah of the late Countess' sprawling mansion nestled among swaying acacias, weeping cherry trees and bougainvillea.

One of the skills he'd honed through years of experience in the field was the ability to read people. Their team had closely followed and interviewed the key suspects in this case over the last two weeks, since the Countess had been discovered murdered in her bedroom - the latest incident to disturb the tranquility of the island paradise they called home.

The other officers also stood strategically positioned, alert in case the murderer tried to run off in a desperate attempt to evade prosecution under the law. JP Hooper, youngest member of the team, and Dwayne's partner, stood next to the wide banister along the short flight of stairs leading towards the gardens.

Detective Sergeant Florence Cassel stood beside the ornate archway leading into the house. Florence was a brilliant police woman whose hard work and unrelenting pursuit of the truth and justice had not only earned her accolades in her young career with the force, but also rapid promotion through its ranks.

Dwayne listened stone-faced, none too surprised when the Detective Inspector, having introduced each suspect in the context of their relationship to the victim and their possible motive for murder, turned squarely to face Susan Bonheur, daughter-in-law of the victim; revealing _her_ to be the guilty party. An audible gasp went around the group. All appeared visibly shocked by the revelation, with the exception of Susan of course. Her initial blustering of indignation quickly melting into blank faced silence as the Detective Inspector delivered the denouement in his now familiar Irish brogue and meandering oratorical style.

DI Jack Mooney held the audience captive, walking them through every detail the investigation had uncovered, incisively deducing the more nuanced aspects of intrigue and deception involved in the case. And in the end, 'JP, please arrest Lady Bonheur - for the murder of Countess Marie Du Motier' he concluded.

A little later at the station, Florence tidied her desk, deftly gathering up documents related to the case they had just wrapped-up; filing away the relevant paperwork and sliding the rest into a secure disposal. DI Mooney was busy taking down photographs and tape from the evidence board, then proceeded to carefully erase each name from the board, along with each row of neatly bulleted notes outlining the suspects' connections to the victim. Dwayne and JP taped up evidence boxes, which would be logged and shipped off the next day to the main forensics facility in Guadeloupe.

'So…Catherine's bar everyone?' Dwayne piped up in his lilting Caribbean twang. The team typically headed over to Catherine's popular beach front spot, to toast the successful conclusion of a particularly grueling case. The work of policing, solving crime, involved hours of processing and reviewing evidence, interviewing witnesses and suspects, starting with puzzles that sometimes came in a million pieces, and ending with a clear picture of 'who did it' and in most cases 'why'. It was arduous work that could sometimes be frustrating, especially when they hit a dead end. Today had been a victory of sorts. In cases of murder however, any elation felt from bringing the perpetrator into custody was tempered by the sad reality of the life lost, and the grieving family members and friends who would never see their loved one again.

'Sorry Dwayne, my parents are expecting me for dinner tonight' Florence declined the invitation in her thickly accented English. Her sincere manner easily drew a smile from Dwayne, as he shrugged amicably. 'Oh yes, you _did_ mention that your eldest brother is in town, I think Florence…?' Jack mused, absently tugging at his shirt collar and further loosening the maroon tie that already looped low around his neck.

'Ok!, _you_ are excused', Dwayne said to Florence.

Jack had mostly adjusted to the island heat, but today had been particularly humid. He longed for a cool shower and the chance to relax under the stars in the hammock, out on the beachfront of the old shack that was now his home. He enjoyed being out there on nights like this, when the air was thick with the scent of Jasmine blossoms and he could taste the saltiness of the sea breeze as he listened to the waves rush to shore.

It'd been a year since the widowed Scotland Yard policeman had left the damp and familiar charm of London to visit the tropical island of St. Marie at the invitation of his transitory colleague DI Humphrey Goodman. Jack had met and worked with Humphrey, Florence and Dwayne during an assignment that'd taken the trio to London; and they had hit it off immediately. At the end of the case, a two week visit to St. Marie with his daughter Siobhan had subsequently turned into a permanent re-assignment to the island for Jack. Convenient; as matters of the heart urgently beckoned Goodman back to England, leaving the opening for a new Inspector in the coastal town of Honore.

The very shrewd St. Marie Police Commissioner, Selwyn Patterson, in his typical wily fashion had ensured a smooth transition for Jack; the change causing no disruption to the day to day running of things, and barely noticeable to his new colleagues; except of course for the obvious differences between the lanky, somewhat clumsy but very likeable Goodman, and Mooney's more quirky wit, and quiet geniality.

'That's right sir' Florence offered; 'tonight will be the first time in two years that the entire family will be together again! I'm looking forward to it'.

'JP?" enquired Dwayne, grabbing his bike helmet off the desk and stepping outside so JP could lock the station's main doors for the night. The detective sergeant and the inspector were already heading down the wide stairway and towards the official vehicle of the Honore Police, a brown Land Rover with tan colored hood and moldings.

'I'm afraid I can't tonight', JP replied to Dwayne's invitation. 'I need to be home for Rosie' he leaned in towards his partner, and continued in a hushed voice 'the twins are lying low, and doing a number on her back. I promised to…you know, give her a massage, and help her get comfortable' he finished somewhat shyly. "Oh- ho, well I can't argue with that JP' Dwayne replied loudly with a wink. 'A man needs to be there for his wife, help her get 'comfortable''he teased.

'Well chief, looks like it's just you and me' said Dwayne turning to Jack. Jack waved good-naturedly, 'Thanks Dwayne but I think I'll also pass tonight' he replied, already climbing into the passenger seat of the Rover, 'Do give my regards to the Mayor though'.

'Aaah, forget it! I might as well just go home' Dwayne complained, fastening his helmet and climbing on to the other official vehicle, a 1990s moped that sported a sidecar. 'Good night…' called Jack, as Florence released the handbrake and the car pulled slowly away.

It was a little before 8 pm when they set off. Jack settled back into the passenger seat letting the darkness of the night envelope him. He'd found that Florence preferred to do most of the driving at work. Jack didn't mind. She did everything with such efficiency and ease; he was content to just follow her lead. As they left the narrow winding streets in the central part of town, the car began to pick up speed.

Florence occasionally glanced over at Jack, wondering whether the Inspector had fallen asleep. He'd not said a word since they left the station. His eyes were closed and she couldn't help but notice a tiny furrow on his brow, his face otherwise relaxed. The pale yellow glow of the street lights that lined the coastal highway, intermittently first illuminated then cast shadows over them, as they drove through the night.

Taking in the inspector's trim build, his strong jawline and slightly crooked nose, Florence found him to be quite handsome in a rugged sort of way. And she enjoyed the fact that even in the initially unfamiliar surroundings of the island; he carried himself with a quiet confidence that she found reassuring. Perhaps it came from him having to be a pillar for his family, for his daughter, for so long. Florence liked his eyes the most. She thought he had the kindest eyes she'd ever seen.

Florence often wondered how her colleague was _really_ doing; how he was coping. Not only with his loss but with the big chance he'd taken, leaving everything behind back home to come to St. Marie not two months after burying his wife. It had been over a year but surely, he must still be grieving, missing her. With Siobhan around, Florence worried a little less for him. Jack's daughter was a lovely girl and so much like her dad. She was lively and had a positive outlook on life, despite its challenges. Siobhan was genuinely warm and curious and had taken a liking to her dad's colleague, becoming fast friends with the older woman. She'd spent the past Christmas with them in St. Marie, but had since returned to University in England.

'Did you want to ask me something Detective Sergeant?' Jack said with forced seriousness, belied by the small smile of amusement playing on his lips which he hoped she did not detect in the darkness. Florence glanced sharply at him; his head was still back, eyes still closed. She flushed; warmth spreading up her neck and into her cheeks. Fixing her eyes firmly on the road ahead, she managed a croaky 'No...sir'. She prayed that his eyes were indeed closed and that he could not see her blushing.

She chided herself, realizing that he must have sensed her looking over at him. If there was one thing Florence prided herself in, it was her professionalism. She and the Detective Inspector had shared many drives like this one together, to and from work. Tonight would be no different except perhaps that she'd just been day-dreaming; something that seemed to be happening more often lately.

Florence pulled the car up as close as possible to the beaten path leading to the Inspector's residence, slowing to a stop. Jack hopped out and shut the door, his hand lingering on the door frame at the open window.

'Thank you Florence,.. for everything' He paused. 'A job well done today by the way. Couldn't have done any of it without you'. They both waited in a brief silence. He was about to bid her good night when she shut off the engine.

'Actually sir..', Florence hesitated, 'I was wondering whether you would like to join my family and I for supper tonight', 'that is, if you don't have other plans…' her voice trailed off. 'That's really kind of you Florence, but isn't tonight a special occasion?', 'I…', his hand still resting on the door frame. She'd swiveled slightly in her seat to face him. 'I'd like to; very much actually' he started, 'Though I really wouldn't want to impose, I'm sure your fam…'. Florence raised her hand, interrupting him 'No imposition at all sir, my brothers would all very much like to meet you'. He nodded in understanding.

'So...', she went on cheerily, revving the car's engine back to life, 'I'll pick you up i-i-in… half an hour?' she enquired, cocking her head to one side. 'Yes' Jack replied, 'Wait' he stopped her, 'No need to pick me up' he continued 'You've already been too kind by even _inviting_ me- no need to do any more driving tonight on my account...you go on home; I'll call a taxi or maybe even walk. It's a nice night' he said, looking up at the cloudless sky as if for confirmation.

'Alright', she replied with a smile, putting the car in reverse 'Then I'll see you in a short while sir'. Jack tapped the hood in assent and stood watching as the tail lights disappeared into the dark.

Twenty minutes later, showered, shaved and feeling human again Jack surveyed his surroundings. He'd fed Harry the resident reptile, his requisite mix of mashed fruit and mosquitoes. The green lizard had been keeper of the shack since Jack's pre-predecessor Richard Poole was the occupant, perhaps even before. Jack caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror pausing to inspect his appearance. He'd exchanged the tie and suit pants of the day for khakis and a more relaxed shirt which he wore untucked.

He inspected himself more closely, blue eyes looking back at him. One of the many things he liked about being in the Caribbean was the pace of things. It was as if time slowed down here, so you experienced life frame by frame almost. It felt odd somehow knowing that he was the same man he'd been a few years ago; maybe he'd lost a few pounds, gained a few more creases on his brow but by and large he was the same person.

How different everything had been before it all suddenly turned inside out two years back when his wife had fallen ill. Watching her suffer, and not being able to do anything to stop it, watching his daughter in pain and not being able to make it better, had been the hardest things he'd ever endured. The pain had faded now. He'd let it go quickly because he had to think of Siobhan; she needed him to be whole. The pain was gone but it left a sadness; one that visited him in moments like this when he felt alone.

Dinner with the Cassel family was a lively affair. The older couple lived inland, at the foothills of the more mountainous parts of the island. Their home was of the old colonial style - high ceilings and arched entryways. It emanated a brightness and warmth that Jack observed was a reflection of the close bond the couple shared; also evidenced in the faces of their six adult children and (currently) eight grandchildren.

Florence's father Gilbert Cassel was a historian, retired from the academic world but still very involved in preserving and promoting the stories of the islands. Elements of his studies were woven throughout the tasteful décor of their home; as was the work of Sylvia Cassel, Florence's mother. Sylvia, a painter, also still worked. In fact Jack's previous visit to their home had been some months back when he and Siobhan were invited to a luncheon in celebration of some of Sylvia's pieces being curated in a series of North American Exhibitions. The Cassel family had lived on the island for several generations.

Gilbert's ancestor, a merchant sailor from the American southern state of Louisiana had arrived on St. Marie in the mid eighteen hundreds. The family's current patriarch; Gilbert was tall and imposing, his mixed French-Creole and Apache heritage lending a sharpness to his features which to those yet to make his acquaintance, appeared severe. Yet, to see his eyes soften when his wife of forty five years walked into the room, spoke volumes of the love they shared. In appearance, Sylvia was the opposite of Gilbert; her delicate frame and fine features were accentuated by glowing ebony skin, evidence of her direct African ancestry. In her, Jack saw the essence of Florence's beauty and unaffected charm.

Jack had been drawn to Florence since the first day he laid eyes on her. Not in a sexual way, not at first. Of course he'd found her to be an attractive woman but it was something deeper, more visceral than that. They'd only just met - there she was, standing off to the side looking faintly amused as he and DI Goodman had awkwardly exchanged introductions via the newly installed video link in his London office. She'd been like a ray of sunshine at a very dark time in his life. That had shocked Jack and had left him feeling a sense of guilt. For so long, there had only been Ava his wife, and he'd not paid attention to any other women; so he'd wondered if perhaps his grief was the cause of the unexplained and completely unexpected reaction to a stranger. Jack had firmly set those confusing emotions aside for the better part of the last year.

Now, living in St. Marie, working closely with Florence every day, he'd had a chance to sort through his emotions somewhat. Seeing how devoted she was to her work he'd wondered whether she had someone in her life, but so far there was no indication of that. His attraction to her warmth and beauty had not waned, quite the opposite, but he'd managed to keep his feelings in check. Even managed to be unphased by her weather-appropriate attire which most often involved some type of dress shorts, showing off shapely bronzed legs. When his thoughts strayed that way, Jack chided himself; because where he saw Florence as vibrant and beautiful, he couldn't imagine she could ever see him as anything but a colleague. Ever since he'd moved to the island Florence had only ever been hospitable and generous, always making herself available and offering support over and above the call of duty. He didn't mean to mistake her kindness for anything more, but in the past year he'd increasingly mused about what it might have been like if he and Florence had met under different circumstances; at a coffee shop or crossing the street. Would they have been more willing to linger, and explore the possibility of what this 'connection' held?... _assuming it was mutual?..._ But as often as these thoughts came, Jack dismissed them as uncharacteristic flights of fancy.

Tonight's reunion was especially in honor of the eldest, Andre Cassel who was home for a few days on a long overdue visit. As a commercial pilot based in Brussels, the family did not get to see him as often as they would all have liked. Like Florence, Andre was dedicated to his career and the prospect of marriage did not appear to be on the horizon.

The other members of the clan were fraternal twins Giles and Guy, who with their wives and young children had come in from Guadeloupe for the weekend. The twins had each married native Guadeloupians, making their lives in the main city of Basse-Terre, where they co-owned a fishing business. Mark Cassel, the middle son, was a successful banker who lived with his wife and child right there in Honore. He and his wife had married straight out of University; their son the oldest of the grandchildren, was a gangly pre-teen with a winning smile, who haggled with his younger cousins that _he_ in fact was their tante Florence's favourite!

Jack observed in amusement as the children flittered around Florence for most of the night, vying for attention, which she lavished on each of them. Every bumped elbow and poked eye came to tante Florence to be kissed better.

Frederic Cassel, the youngest brother, was the only one who'd followed in the footstep of their parents somewhat. He was a Professor of Anthropology at the University in Monserrat where he'd met his wife, a fellow Professor in the English department; they had two young daughters.

Despite the teasing and joking about, Jack could tell they were all really close. Everyone was having a good time, and he was happy that he had come. On a night like this one, tomorrow's cares were momentarily forgotten amidst the banter around the table, as laughter erupted over stories told and subsequently retold because the first person missed this detail or that, …or didn't deliver the punch line just so; and as the off islanders caught up on all the juicy tidbits and gossip

With the slight headiness that accompanies a sumptuous meal and fine wine, Jack let his guard down just enough. Enough to notice the cute dimple that appeared and disappeared with the smile that danced across her lips, enough to notice the gentle swell of her breasts beneath the fabric of the baby blue shift dress she was wearing tonight, enough to notice the sway of her hips as she walked over to take her seat opposite him at the dinner table.

'So, tell me Inspector, does my sister still chase after criminals and single handedly bring them down?' teased Giles, as he reached for a second helping of plantains to complement the tender morsels of grilled snapper still on his plate. Jack smiled mischievously, pushing his plate away and exhaling contentedly. Florence shot him a mock glare as if to say, 'don't you dare encourage him'. Jack played along, 'Oh, no no...' he cleared his throat, continuing 'Things have been mostly quiet on the island. In fact, I think word has spread that the Detective Sergeant is not to be trifled with, so the criminals now simply show up at our doorstep and turn themselves in'; his quip drew chuckles all around, except for Florence who playfully rolled her eyes.

'Wow!, sis! is this true?' Andre turned to Florence incredulously. Usually the last person to get any joke, he was unsure whether the Inspector was pulling their leg as Jack had managed to keep a straight face while he made the wild claim. Guy grumbled just loudly enough for all to hear, 'I'm not surprised. She's a terror'. The other brothers erupted in knowing laughter, their wives chiding them with elbow digs and playful swipes.

Gilbert rushed to defend his only daughter, 'Now, now, don't tease'. 'Never mind, papa' Florence laughed good-naturedly, pushing out her chair and standing up. 'I _had_ to be a terror' she said, as she jokingly hooked her arms around the necks of the twins on either side of her in a mock choke-hold...'because I had a pair of terrible brothers who needed to be kept in line'. 'Hear, hear' piped Frederic. 'That's why she became a cop' retorted Sylvia. 'Exactly maman' stated Florence, as she turned around to walk towards the kitchen. 'Who's coming to help me with dessert?', she sing-sang over her shoulder. Jack immediately jumped to his feet, and headed towards the kitchen after her.

The hum of conversation from the dining room wafted into the kitchen as the two of them worked side-by-side in silence; she, gently guiding him in arranging the sweet treats onto the two doily covered trays resting on the counter. Jack had brought a box of After Eight chocolate mints as a gift for his hosts. He regretted not having been able to get them something more sophisticated ahead of tonight's soiree; it was the best he could do on short notice. The specialty version of the confectionary was an expensive gift from Siobhan on her last visit. He'd remembered that the chocolate was tucked away at the back of the ice box at the shack, to protect it from turning to soup. It turned out that the chocolate paired perfectly with the assortment of fruit and pastries being served for dessert.

He stepped back to inspect their handiwork; then turned to face Florence, raising one eyebrow as he awaited her verdict. 'Not bad!', laughed. 'Yea..', Jack's voice caught. He cleared his throat and tried again. 'Yes. We make a good team'. He hadn't meant to sound suggestive, but the off-hand comment caused a flush of color to rise to Florence's cheeks. It was the second time he'd made her blush tonight. Jack became intensely aware of how close they were standing. He breathed her in, imperceptibly almost; anxious not to spoil the moment. A delicate fragrance, a mix of her perfume and her essence, filled and flooded his senses.

Their gazes met. Florence felt herself sway towards him, the blue of his eyes like magnetic pools in which she would drown. They were so close she could feel the heat of his body; sparking a sudden flash of deep desire in her belly and causing goose bumps to run up and down her bare arms. She breathed in sharply, taking a step backward.

Picking up one of the trays, she said briskly 'we'd better get these outside before they fall apart', and she was gone, balancing the tray on her upturned palm. Jack picked up the second tray of desserts and again hurried after her.

After the meal and some easy after dinner conversation Jack looked at the time. It was later than he'd realized; the time had flown by. Already the younger grandchildren were dozing on the plush settees in the sitting area, or stretched out on their parents' laps. He thanked his hosts for the invitation and for dinner, amidst Gilbert's protestations that no thanks were necessary. He was at the door exchanging good-byes, or 'a la prochaine's as was preferred.

Sylvia said 'There will be no taxis at this hour; surely, you are not planning to walk back home this late, Inspector?' she sounded concerned; 'Mark will give you a lift' she said gesturing toward her son, 'Of course'; Mark said, as he started towards the living room 'I'll just get my car keys'. 'No need,… really' Jack insisted, 'you've already been too kind'. Florence said 'You should take the jeep sir', she picked up a set of keys from the entry table. 'I'll get a ride in to work tomorrow, so you don't have to worry about picking me up' she handed him the keys. 'Here, let me show you where it's parked'. Her suggestion made sense; 'Thank you, Florence' Jack said, as she walked past him to open the front door. In one last chorus of 'good night's, the two of them stepped out into the dewy night

'A good man' Gilbert stated as a matter of fact when the door had closed behind them. 'Yes', Sylvia added 'I rather like him', smiling knowingly up at her husband, before linking her arm through his. The two walked side by side into the family room to join the others. 'What are you two up to now?' Guy questioned his parents cheekily in French. Sylvia just continued to smile, picking up one sleeping grand-daughter from the settee to carry her off to bed.

If anyone else had noticed that evening, the way Detective Sergeant Florence Cassel and her superior officer, Detective Inspector Jack Mooney listened in rapt attention to everything the other said, or how they finished each other's sentences while sharing anecdotes from work, or how their eyes met and their fingers lingered ever so slightly when they'd accidentally brushed over the bowl of Etouffee at dinner; no one mentioned it.


	2. Chapter 2

2\. Noah's Ark

Catherine Bordey waved as soon as she spotted DS Florence Cassel and Detective Inspector Mooney, tucked into one of the crowded wooden pews closest to the vestry. She started towards them but was suddenly ushered fussily away. Catherine meekly trailed behind the wizened man who was leading her to the reserved area near the front of the chapel. She had known Mr. Mason the church's long time warden for the over three decades since she'd first followed her heart, leaving her home in France to come to St. Marie.

When things had not worked out with her baby daughter Camille's father, and she found herself alone, she'd decided to stay and make the island home, working hard to provide for Camille and raising her to become a very smart and capable young woman. Now Catherine Bordey, something of a St. Marie institution in her own right; was a successful business woman with keen instincts and a compassionate ear. The tall, graceful French woman was instantly recognizable around town in her colorful headwraps and locally crafted jewelry. Catherine tried to hide her amusement at the air of formality and occasion Mr. Mason exuded as he proudly escorted the Mayor of St. Marie to her seat.

Today was a special Sunday, being the baptismal service for Officer JP Hooper and his wife Rosie's twins. 'Good morning, Madame Mayor' Selwyn Patterson, Commissioner of the St. Marie Police drawled in his hushed baritone, turning slightly in his seat which was next to Catherine's and offering her a warm handshake. Catherine and the Commissioner exchanged pleasantries, catching up on a little shop talk until the trill of the pipe organ signaled the start of the service.

The little church on a hill was full to capacity on this morning and just to look around, most worshipers could recognize almost everyone present. JP and Rosie sat in the front center pew, each cradling a bouncing baby boy, and looking every bit the happy and proud parents they were. Their respective families, some that lived on the island and others that had made the trip to share in the special occasion, filled most of the seats in the front rows.

Also present were friends, neighbours, and of course Dwayne Meyers, Florence Cassel and Jack Mooney; JP's colleagues from St. Marie's Honore Police Force. Even JP's temporary reliever for the few weeks until he was back at work; Winston Lively, an experienced officer from headquarters in Guadeloupe, had made it a point to honor the invitation. The new man's overly serious demeanor and apparent absence of humor (Dwayne was quick to point out to the Inspector and Florence) were _nothing_ like his name might suggest; much to his new partner's exasperation.

The low murmur amongst the congregation quietened to a reverent silence as the small group of clergy processed to the front of the church. Reverend Matthew Dawson ascended the pulpit to offer words of welcome. 'The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with you…' he began. 'And also with you' the congregants responded. 'Let us pray...' As all heads were bowed in reflection, the Reverend offered prayers for the people gathered, and for the wider community and prefecture. Reverend Dawson then prayed for the young family standing before him, giving thanks for their bountiful blessing - the reason all were gathered to celebrate.

As the opening hymn was announced and the organ began to play, DI Mooney held out his hymn sheet to DS Cassel for them to share. Florence initially did not appear to notice the Inspector's gesture; he turned his attention to the direction of her gaze and recognized the likely reason for the shadow that had crossed her face.

The blare of the organ broke Florence's reverie and she glanced briefly back at Jack before taking hold of the corner of the little booklet he held between them, joining in the refrain 'Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord, let the people rejoice…'

Thy left the baptismal service before the closing benediction due to an urgent message Florence received on her cellphone. The message read that expected forensics results on evidence collected from Noah's Ark had just been emailed to the station. The pair had whispered a quick update to Officers Meyers and Lively, before quietly slipping out of the crowded sanctuary to attend to police business.

Noah's Ark was the name of a fifty foot yacht that was the scene of an apparent double murder the Honore Police were currently investigating. Although it was a Sunday, Dr. Hilliard, chief pathologist at the Basse Terre morgue in Guadeloupe had hastily dispatched the lab results given the urgency of the matter and also because of concerns that Lucille an approaching category three tropical storm could hit the area possibly within twenty-four hours.

The boat was registered to the victims, Alexander and Peggy Miller, a visiting American couple known to locals, and who owned property on the island. The couple had been discovered on their yacht two weeks prior, when a passing fisherman noticed the vessel listing a few miles off the coast and raised the alarm. Upon initial assessment of the scene, it had appeared to the detectives that an intruder had boarded the vessel during the early hours of the morning while the couple slept. Signs of a struggle, evidence of missing cash and jewelry and the bodies of the husband and wife, each fatally shot, had given the appearance of a random attack with robbery as the primary motive.

Since the beginning however, Jack had sensed something not quite right about the crime scene. Every relevant piece of evidence appeared to point to murder, including the absence of the murder weapon; yet as DI Mooney had observed to Sergeant Cassel in his characteristic manner (hopping from point to point, recreating events as he imagined they _could_ have occurred, role playing and talking to himself out loud) something just seemed _odd_ about it all.

Due to the sensitive nature of this particular case, the Commissioner had conveyed a heightened sense of urgency to the team, stressing his expectation for a speedy apprehension of the murderer and a conclusion to the matter. The suspicious death of Peggy Miller a public figure and former high level government official, and her husband, had attracted a great deal of attention on the island and back in the couple's home country.

Although the foreign office was assuring US authorities that the situation was under control and in the competent hands of the Honore Police, the clock was ticking. Of course, the idea that the investigation might be taken over by an outside agency was anathema to Commissioner Patterson, a fact which he reminded Mooney and Cassel of constantly.

The detectives arriving at the station that morning, and having read the details of the lengthy report, were able to conclude that what they'd begun to suspect was indeed correct. Expert analysis of the trajectory of the bullet that killed Mrs. Miller together with the pathologist's findings now appeared to confirm without a shadow of doubt that Alex Miller had fired the shot that killed his wife before turning the gun on himself.

The facts of the case combined: the final lab results, evidence found at the scene, the information Florence had dug up on persons personally and professionally associated with the couple back at home, the results from Dwayne and Winston's poring over the couple's banking records from several offshore accounts, and interviews the Inspector had conducted with people acquainted with the victims including their adult daughter and son who'd arrived on the island immediately upon receiving the terrible news, all painted an unexpected picture. What on the surface had appeared to be a random tragic event, was in fact revealed to be a story of corruption, blackmail and ultimately of desperation.

It was clear now that for a number of years in her position on government committees responsible for the approval of key oil and gas projects many of which had met with intense opposition from environmentalists, Peggy Miller had received healthy sums of money in bribes for the price of her deciding vote granting the necessary permission for those projects to go ahead. By all indications Alex Miller was complicit and often directly involved in his wife's illegal actions. Someone, now identified as Martin Thomson, a junior government staffer, had stumbled upon incriminating evidence of the Millers' dealings, and had confronted them with the threat of exposure.

The blackmail had started after that, and the Millers were soon caught in a tightening web of secrets and lies. In constant fear of public humiliation and criminal prosecution, and close to losing everything to Thomson's increasing demands, the desperate couple did their best to set their affairs in order, ensuring that their two children would benefit from a significant life insurance policy they'd taken out.

Some details of the Miller's final communication to their lawyer and talk of documents in a Houston safety deposit box that contained explosive allegations of the involvement of others in government were still vague. However what Mooney and Cassel did know was that the couple had made one last trip to St. Marie presumably knowing it would be their last, and had proceeded to execute their plan: a suicide pact staged to look like a robbery gone wrong.

DS Cassel had immediately gotten on the phone to Washington and made plans for the transfer of relevant information and evidence related to the case, which were now part of a much larger federal investigation.

The party was in full swing by the time Sergeant Cassel and Inspector Mooney pulled up in front of the Hooper's home. There was still no sign of the impending bad weather; there was balminess to the air around the hilly hamlet with its scattering of spacious split level homes. The sounds of a popular calypso tune, merry laughter and the clink of toasting glasses greeted them as they walked around the side of the house towards the backyard. Since the two had left the church early, they'd missed the happy exchange of greetings and photographs with JP, Rosie and the boys.

The sight of Officer Lively on the dance floor in the middle of performing a complicated contortion that looked like break dancing, amidst the encouraging cheers of those gathered around him, caused Florence and Jack to exchange bemused expressions; they'd clearly missed _a lot_.

After the two of them had been spirited away by Rosie's mother who enthusiastically insisted that they sample every one of the offerings at the buffet, the team eventually regrouped at a picnic table under an orange tree at the bottom of the garden. 'Officer Lively, I must say I _did_ not know you had it in you' commented Jack. 'Intramural dance champion sir' Lively replied matter of fact, 'two years in a row'. Jack raised his bottle of water in a partial salute 'Impressive!' he stated before taking a sip. ' _And_ I play the bugle' Lively said, then went back to sipping from the can of cola in his hand.

Jack's eyes wandered over to the dance floor, to Dwayne and Florence. In the waning light of the day Jack thought Florence looked radiant, her head was thrown back in cheerful laughter at something Dwayne said, then her eyes took him on in a playful challenging glare as she moved her shoulders in alternate formation to his, both of them dueling to a familiar oldie. Jack mused that she was perhaps the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.

When the song ended, the two of them made their way over; 'I see you bobbing your head there Chief, aren't you going to hit the dancefloor?' Dwayne asked jovially. Before Jack could respond, Dwayne continued 'did you all see our man Winston?' slapping the other man's shoulder lightly, Winston's face cracked a small smile, he was beginning to warm up to his new partner. 'Did you know he was two time Intramural dance champion' Dwayne boasted, holding up two fingers for emphasis 'and that's not all you know, he…' '…Plays the bugle!' Florence and Jack chorused, interrupting Dwayne.'We heard, Dwayne' Florence said in mock exasperation.

'Heard what?' JP asked. He and Rosie had walked over to join them. 'Never mind' responded Florence, 'Oh look at their little cheeks, so adorable' she cooed, happily picking up one of the twins being proffered to her by Rosie. 'He likes you...' Rosie observed, smiling contentedly. This was apparently correct because the baby was staring at Florence with doe eyes, then he started on a mission to stuff the gold locket on the chain around her neck into his mouth, which she gently extracted from his clutch and swung over her back for safety. They all chuckled.

JP spoke in a gentle voice to his other son, nestled on his shoulder 'Have you met the Chief yet little one?' the baby stared at his dad wide eyed, and then buried his head in JP's shoulder shyly. Jack leaned over JP 'Very nice to meet you' he said in a soft voice. The baby perked up and after a brief moment of contemplation, raised his arms towards Jack.

'Ohhh!, there it is' exclaimed Dwayne jealously, 'the voice of experience!', which made them all laugh. 'Picture!' cried Rosie; and she beckoned enthusiastically, catching the attention of a young man talking to some people a few yards away. She introduced him as her cousin and designated camera man for the day. They all posed for group photos, then one more with just Florence and Jack holding the twins.

After the photographs, they mingled with other guests some more, joining in the dancing until the evening began to wind down and people began to leave. Florence thanked their hosts and wished them well once again. The Detective Inspector lived west of JPs, at the official residence of the Honore Police aka the old shack on the beach, and although she would be going the opposite way to her parents' home further inland, Florence walked over to him, 'Are you ready to leave sir?; I could drop you off..' she half inquired.

He replied with genuine warmth 'Thank you Florence', knowing it was out of her way; Jack thought it was sweet that she'd offered. 'I'll catch a ride with Dwayne,… it's all arranged'. 'On the moped sir?' she asked, eyebrows raised a little quizzically at the idea of the two bounding down the hills in the low light of the evening – _catch_ being the operative word in his last statement, she thought. 'Yes, yes, it'll be fine…a bit of an adventure!' he replied cheerily. 'Ok, sir' Florence responded doubtfully. 'Let me walk you to the car', Jack offered, gesturing for her to lead the way.

As they walked side by side Jack thought for a moment then said 'I noticed your concern earlier…'; 'Oh?', she glanced over urging him to continue as they came to a stop next to the driver's door of the brown Land Rover. 'I took the liberty of inquiring with the Guadeloupe magistrate's office. Judith Dawson will quite possibly be released very soon'; she waited expectantly for him to continue. 'She's doing…alright by the way, under the circumstances' his voice carried a hint of strain.

'Her sentence will likely be commuted on account that although she acted as an accomplice, ultimately she was not the one that came up with the plan and she was not the one who wielded the weapon than killed Mr. Pearce' Jack continued.

Florence inquired, 'Do you really think so?' sounding hopeful. Jack nodded 'Enough evidence may have been presented by her solicitor to suggest that Edwina Bousquet placed undue pressure on the younger woman, manipulating her into aiding Edwina in _her_ decades long desire for revenge'. Florence looked relieved. Murder was indefensible; however she did feel an affinity for the young woman and sympathized with her predicament.

Judith Dawson was the wife of Reverend Matthew Dawson. Seeing how strained the Reverend had looked that morning reminded Florence that; what for the police was often the end of a chapter, was for victims' families _and_ in most cases perpetrators families also, just the beginning. She hoped for the sake of the baby that Judith now carried, that the Dawsons might have a chance at redemption.

As a teenager living on St. Marie, Judith's mother Edwina was rejected by a young Victor Pearce with whom she had been having a romantic relationship, after she revealed to him that she was carrying his child. Judith was given up as a baby and was raised in an orphanage; growing up just miles away from where each of her parents lived. Years later Judith and her husband Reverend Matthew Dawson would take up the running of the orphanage, but a desperate desire for children of their own would not be fulfilled.

Around the time that Jack first arrived on St. Marie, the Dawson's had been making plans to adopt three children, two boys and a girl who'd been in their care since infancy and whom they loved as their own. But Victor Pearce, a shrewd and ruthless businessman, threatened to take everything away from the couple when he revealed plans to develop the land where the orphanage stood.

Victor Pearce never did find out the true identity of Judith, and up until his death had been unwilling to meet with her despite her repeated requests for a chance to appeal his development plans. It was in this context that Edwina Bousquet, a woman who'd lived all those years in apparently feigned piety, never marrying, dedicating so much of her time to the church; approached Judith with the truth of her parentage and with a plot to repay Pearce for his wrongs. The plot ended with Judith providing cover in the form of an alibi for Edwina, who at the time, entered the polling booth where Pearce was casting his vote as a candidate in a hotly contested mayoral election, and stabbed him in the back.

Those events had put a strain on everyone. There was outrage of course over the brazen vengeful killing, there were disputes over the declaration of Catherine Bordey (one of the other candidates) as de facto Mayor due to the death of Pearce and withdrawal from the race of her other rival. During what had followed, the arrests, the arraignment, the trial; Matthew Dawson continued on at the church although his physical stature appeared to diminish as if the weight of it all would crush him.

Judith had sleep-walked through most of it, the enormity of everything that had happened appearing to overwhelm her. It was a difficult time for the close-knit community and especially for the family of the victim. It took a while, but ultimately a whisper of empathy and forgiveness towards Judith grew to a ground swell, that even saw the Pearce family reach across the courtroom during the trial to accept a letter from Matthew, written by Judith, where she expressed great remorse and sorrow for what she had done.

In a cruel twist of irony, having lost the orphanage and any chance of adoption, and faced with a serious jail sentence; a few days before the beginning of the trial, Judith Dawson discovered that she was pregnant. Now currently serving out her sentence in the Guadeloupe Central prison, unless things worked out as Jack had optimistically expressed, there was a chance the baby might not get to know her mother's touch, not for a while anyway.

'Let's hope for the best…' Jack's tone was reflective as he opened the car door for his colleague, '…under the circumstances…' she finished with a wry smile, climbing into the driver's seat. Had he become so predictable?, he mused a little self-consciously. 'I'll see you tomorrow Detective Sergeant' Jack said. 'Tomorrow?' Florence looked puzzled, before saying 'It's a public holiday tomorrow sir'.

'Ah yes of course, I completely forgot' Jack tapped his forehead, 'Well in _that_ case, I hope I _don't_ see you tomorrow!' He cringed, starting again 'What I meant to say …'; Florence waved it off, laughing lightly. It was common practice that although the station was closed on Sundays and public holidays they could all pick up calls on the emergency number. 'I understand what you _meant_ to say' she said, smiling mischievously as she drove away, 'I hope I don't see you tomorrow as well sir - goodnight' she called.

Jack headed back inside to find Dwayne, mentally kicking himself for the blunder and worse for not inquiring if Florence had any plans for the day off. He thought of how Siobhan often sagely implored him to think of himself for a change, 'bain sult as an saol' she'd say gently. He could have started by asking the Detective Sergeant over for dinner. He would love to cook for her, plus he made a mean moules mariniere.

It was about 4 o'clock the next afternoon; the sun waning in the sky as Florence drove home from running some errands in town. She'd been humming softly to a zouk tune playing on the car's radio, when a static interruption and then a series of alarm signals caused her to turn up the volume. An announcer came on air with an urgent weather update.

According to the report, although the meteorological service had downgraded the approaching storm to a category two, the authorities were urging everyone to take the appropriate precautions. A high alert would remain in place as the storm looked likely to make landfall within a few hours.

Florence was thankful that the island's Fire and Disaster Emergency Response Unit was adequately equipped to handle these situations, and there was rarely any need for police involvement, although they had on occasion availed themselves of the help offered by the folks of the Honore Police. The Emergency Response Unit generally made sure people and their property were secured, and that everyone had access to emergency supplies. Sometimes a situation would call for evacuations, which they also coordinated.

Florence checked her official cell phone - there were no messages so she figured it was alright for her to head home. If the storm did hit, she was looking forward to being curled up in her favorite chair, reading a good novel - by the light of an oil lamp (the rain and wind would probably knock out the power). She smiled nostalgically remembering her days as a little girl doing the exact thing during the storms that frequently hit the island; a pile of her favorite detective books on the floor beside her, her mother chiding that Florence would ruin her eyesight by reading in such poor light (which everyone now knew was a myth!). Florence swung the car off the coastal highway and unto a beaten path. There was something she needed to do first. Her mind drifted to a certain Irish man with the deepest, kindest blue eyes and both the goofiest and sexiest smiles.

Pulling the car up beside the path leading to the beach house; residence of the Honore Detective Inspector; Florence hopped out, grabbing a medium sized cardboard box from the back seat before heading up the short flight of wooden steps onto the front porch.

'Hello...' she called, there was no response. She walked around the balcony, depositing the box on the floor beside the café table then poked her head inside through the double doors which were swung wide open. 'Sir?...'. Still no response. Florence scanned the length of the beach as far as she could see, perhaps the inspector had gone for a walk. A faint thudding noise was coming from outside; Florence followed the sound around the side of the house passing the small banana grove and vegetable garden that the Jack had revived since he moved in.

'Florence, what a pleasant surprise!' he exclaimed, looking genuinely please to see her. Jack put down the ceramic encased unit and wrench he was holding, dusting his hands on the seat of his pants and walking towards her. 'I just stopped by to bring you some supplies sir… I…tried calling ahead but…' she gestured curiously towards the ceramic box which now lay on the ground beside a toolbox which contained an assortment of tools, and some lengths of plumbing pipe. It looked like he was in the middle of installing something on the side wall of the house. 'I'm sorry…I didn't mean to interrupt you' she finished, feeling a bit awkward. What had she been thinking, he was a grown man, not someone that needed fussing over. She should have tried calling a few more times instead of dropping in unannounced like this.

'A welcome interruption I assure you, Florence' he said pleasantly. 'You said you brought supplies…?' he sounded curious. 'Have you been listening to the weather alerts, sir?' she said; 'No…' he confessed frowning slightly ' ..I've been out here most of the day', realization dawned on him as to reason for her visit; so this was not a social call. He tried to hide his disappointment. 'I'll just pack these up quickly and we can go inside', he said starting to dump the tools into the box, then snapped it shut, picking it up with one hand and reaching for the heavy ceramic unit with the other. Florence hurriedly moved to help, grabbing the pieces of pipe and handing them to Jack as he stored the items in the shed.

Once they went back around to the front of the house, Florence waited on the balcony while Jack went inside to wash up. A few minutes later as he was walking out to join her, he marveled at how oblivious of her beauty she seemed to be.

The honey colour of her skin took on a warm glow in the late afternoon sun. A light breeze playfully teased at the hem of her strappy floral summer dress, and gently mussed her hair, both of which she was struggling to set straight as she turned around. Their eyes met in a sudden intense exchange, an unspoken question…probing… would he…?…would she...?...

Florence felt suddenly self-conscious. She smiled shyly, averting her gaze and turning around to fix her eyes on the distant whirlwind funneling up from the sea and reaching towards the sky. It reminded her of the earthen pots that local artisans formed on a potter's wheel, the supple clay rising up then appearing to fall down again in an undulating rhythm.

'So that's Lucille…' Jack's voice was thick with awe. The two of them stood side by side for a few moments admiring the terrifying beauty of nature on display. A sudden gust of wind picked up a loose shingle on the roof of the shack; the loud clatter jolting them both back to reality. They looked at each other and said simultaneously, 'Supplies!'

An hour later the weather had changed dramatically, the approaching storm had pushed in thick dark clouds which were now hanging ominously overhead. The previous bright serenity of the beach had disappeared under the darkened sky; loose palm fronds were tossed about, trees swayed and leaned to nearly touch the ground, and whorls of sand were picked up and thrust violently in the air.

Everything around them quivered as big droplets quickly turned into giant pelting sheets of rain. Jack and Florence hastily worked together and finished boarding up the last window before rushing inside the shack to safety, locking and bolting the doors behind them.

Inside, they collapsed side by side onto the sofa, and taking one look at each other burst out laughing. 'You said you were up for an adventure sir' Florence joked as they struggled to catch their breath. 'I must look like a drowned rat' Jack said humorously, getting up to find them some towels. 'That would be me I think...' Florence joked back.

Serious all of a sudden, Jack said as he handed her a dry towel 'You look beautiful' and he meant it. Daring to look into his eyes, Florence's stomach felt weightless; a delicious electricity running through her body. She noticed Jack's eyes were drawn to her erect nipples as they pushed against the wet fabric of her dress; she felt them throb with an aching desire to be caressed by him. Averting his eyes, Jack went to light the stove, calling over his shoulder 'Once again, you've been a life saver Florence, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come when you did.' 'The wind would surely have ripped through the windows in no time' he said.

Standing in the living area of the bedsit, Florence wrapped the towel around herself trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach. When she'd regained her composure she vigorously rubbed her head with the towel to dry her hair, her natural curls accentuated with the action 'It was really nothing sir, I was in town this afternoon and thought that this being your first big storm on St. Marie, I could perhaps lend a hand'. The loose shingle on the roof flapped loudly as the wind continued to whip the outside walls of the shack.

Florence chatted optimistically looking around the space 'This structure is sturdier than it looks actually. The maintenance man Monsieur Garcin has done a good job over the years I gather' she continued, 'We should give him a call in a few days, once this is over, to come and inspect for any damage…' she trailed .

Jack walked to where she was standing in the center of the room with two mugs in hand 'Coffee?' he offered. She accepted the warm mug hugging it close as she quelled a shiver. 'I'm sorry, but we have to get out of these wet clothes or...' the power suddenly went out plunging them in darkness, and Jack stopped mid-sentence. '…Right …e-m-m' he said. 'Torches?' suggested Florence. 'Right' he replied, feeling his way in the dark to the area near the front doors where he thought the supplies box had last been.

Florence sneezed; 'Bless you' Jack called out. He'd found the torches and was now lighting a couple of oil lamps and placing them around the room, their dull yellow flames licking the air above the lamps' glass bulbs, and casting flickering shadows about them. 'Alright…' Jack said after he was done, 'as I was saying we need to get out of these wet clothes so as not to catch our death',

She nodded in agreement, looking a little confused '…catch our death …sir?'. 'It's an expression' he chuckled, and did his best to explain the presumed origins of the term as he rummaged through his closet looking for his warmest shirt with long sleeves. Once he'd found it, he handed it to Florence 'Here, why don't you put this on'.

'Thank you', she said, accepting the shirt and looking around; the room did not afford much privacy. 'The area over by the bed is screened…behind the dresser.' He added 'But if you feel uncomfortable I could go outside...' she appreciated his earnestness; he was not being presumptive. 'No, no, it's okay' she responded quickly. She had no problem with Jack being there, she was just adjusting to this new intimate setting. They'd flirted occasionally of course, but the idea that the two of them would strip down to bare skin only feet apart, was something she did not know how to react to. Florence told herself she was being silly, and tried to dispel the heady feeling that was coming over her. She prayed she would not make a fool of herself… after all they were just two adults making the best of an unexpected situation; that was all.

Though Florence sensed her colleague might be attracted to her, and hoped he realized it was definitely mutual, so far neither had made a move. She didn't really expect that Jack would; he'd been nothing but courteous and professional towards her since they met. What Florence loved most about the Detective Inspector was the fact he didn't take himself too seriously, and he had a wicked sense of humor. She greatly admired his professional skills; having mastered the ability to keenly study people while maintaining an atmosphere of casual curiosity, Jack's methods were quite effective and she enjoyed working with him immensely. Even though his experience on the field far exceeded hers, he would always seek out her input; never failing to convey the value of her insight in the cases they investigated. They worked well as a team.

While Florence had been in the 'bedroom', lost in thought as she discarded her wet clothes, Jack changed into a plain black t-shirt and a pair of black jeans that hugged his lean thighs. He'd rustled up a small feast that he was laying out on the small café table they'd brought in from the balcony, before the storm hit. Florence cautiously emerged from behind the dresser, the hem of Jack's too big pale blue shirt grazing her thighs just above the knees. She noticed how his hair curled at the nape of his neck and at his temples. Florence imagined running her fingers through the still damp locks. 'I hope you're hungry…' Jack said, trying not to stare as he pulled out her chair. 'Starving' she said truthfully. 'Mm…me too' he said 'It's not much but it should tide us over'.

'It's perfect' she replied, and it really was. She loved her favorite chair in the living room of her parent's home, and she loved her collection of thriller novels; but in that moment there was nowhere else Florence would rather be. Wrapped in Jack's shirt, she reveled in the feel of the fabric against her bare skin and the faint scent of his aftershave mixed with the scent of him. Florence did not know exactly when she had fallen in love with Jack Mooney, but in that moment she knew she would give up everything to be able to stretch this moment into a lifetime.

Little did Florence know Jack's thoughts mirrored hers; because he thought of the two of them sitting at the little café table in a tiny shack, on a lonely beach, on an island in the middle of the Caribbean sea, and he considered himself to be the luckiest man alive. Florence was so warm, so passionate, so committed to what she believed in. She cared about people; he'd seen so much evidence of that in his time with her. She cared about him and his daughter. Florence did not realize but Jack was quite aware of the lengths she would go to make sure he and Siobhan were alright; making the adjustment to their new home far less challenging than it otherwise would have been. Professionally, he admired her instincts and her grit, and was grateful that he had her as his 'partner'.

As a woman he found her to be simply beautiful; and right now the sight of her wearing his shirt, knowing that she was naked underneath, was distracting to say the least. Her thick eyelashes fanned high cheekbones as she glanced at him under shaded dark brown eyes; causing hot arousal to stir below his waist. Jack badly wanted to kiss her - instead, they ate their simple meal in contented silence.

Suddenly remembering an earlier question she'd had before the storm interrupted, Florence asked 'By the way, what _were_ you doing outside when I arrived?' Jack laughed 'That was me in the middle of a little DIY disaster'.

He explained that Siobhan preferred the more private smaller bedroom that Jack had created from a converted storage space at the side of the shack, so he'd been working to set up the room before her next trip back. He'd been pleasantly surprised to see that the necessary plumbing connections were there, at the back of the room; that would make it possible to put in a separate shower stall. Jack explained that he had been spending most of his weekends getting the things he needed from the local hardware store, and working on installing the unit. Some of the plumbing fittings though were proving to be a challenge.

'Perhaps our Monsieur Garcin would be kind enough to take a look?' he finished hopefully. 'I'm sure he would sir' Florence replied. 'I didn't know you were so handy' she said 'Any other tricks I should know about?' she said with a hint of flirtation. 'Not at all' he demurred pleasantly 'No tricks…' he said.

'So!...up for a game of cards?' Jack asked when they had finished eating. 'Sure' Florence replied, picking up their plates and taking them over to the kitchen sink. 'Don't worry about those…' Jack called out as he rummaged around looking for the card deck; but Florence was already dipping the dishes into the bowl of sudsy water using a blue wash sponge to clean them. Feeling a little bold, Florence dried her hands on a checkered hand towel hanging beside the sink, and went over to the sleeping area. Jack looked faintly surprised when she climbed up the two or three steps beside the wide four-poster bed and climbed onto it, sitting with her back against the headboard. With an expression of exaggerated coyness, she patted the space beside her, gesturing that Jack should join her. Jack felt his blood pumping hotly, the sweet ache of a growing erection pushing against his jeans. He hesitated for a fraction of second before joining Florence on the bed; unsure how long his resolve would survive if they continued to fuel the desire that now openly burned between them.

It was almost 9 o'clock; howling winds and rain continued to pound the little shack on the beach. Indoors meanwhile, Jack and Florence were momentarily oblivious to the roiling storm. They sat opposite one another on the king size bed; Florence was teaching Jack how to play _Piquet_. At one point, after unsuccessfully attempting to explain " _carte blanche_ ", Florence scooted over and sat cross-legged beside him, leaning in to peer at the cards in his hand. Their shoulders touched; Jack's sharp intake of breath causing Florence to look up. Their eyes locked; lips inches apart. Then slowly, naturally, they moved towards each other easily closing the gap between them.

Jack put down the cards he was holding. Shifting his weight, he placed his hands down on the mattress on either side of Florence's hips seeking purchase as their kiss deepened. Her lips parted softly inviting him inside. She slid her hands slowly up his arms and across his shoulders, running her fingers loosely through his hair and finally linking them together around his neck, drawing him closer. Jack's lips began a slow sensual exploration, gently tracing her lips, then the line of her neck, then travelling across her delicate collar bone. As an urgent electricity grew between them, Jack's fingers quickly did away with buttons of her shirt, pushing aside the rough fabric to reveal the soft curves of her breasts.

Exhaling, Florence lay back against the cool cotton sheets as Jack continued to trace kisses across her skin, caressing her breasts as he gently grazed the dark twin buds that signaled her arousal. Florence arched her back as his kisses continued slowly down along her midriff; his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin around her belly button. Jack chuckled when Florence tugged impatiently at his t-shirt. Moving back briefly he shed his clothing quickly, an intense passion burning through him as he drank in her beauty.

His arousal was at fever pitch, and as they touched, her moans of pleasure were all the prompting Jack needed to explore further. Grasping her buttocks firmly, he began to tease the delicate flesh between her thighs, his mouth moving expertly in a gentle slow concentric motion. By the time Jack moved over Florence, supporting his weight on his forearms as he positioned himself between her legs, he looked into her eyes and any lingering doubt he may have had about whether she could ever desire him melted completely away.

They were both fully naked; her breasts gently crushed against his chest as their bodies tangled in a heated embrace. Florence ached with impatient desire, parting her legs to receive him, and moaning with pleasure as he entered her. It felt like coming home.

After the urgency of their first climax they began to explore one another with unhurried sensuality, in a steady rhythm that continued long into the night. Finally, lying back on the bed spent from their love making; Florence listened to Jack's heartbeat, her head resting on his chest; Jack absently traced his fingers lightly along her arm.

Sometime in the hours before, the storm had ended and the night had grown quiet. The hurricane lamps had long run out of oil and the room was dark. Jack got up to open a window. A ribbon of moonlight streamed into the small room, bathing them in pale silver light. He returned to Florence, taking her in his arms. They talked quietly as they lay there drifting off to sleep. They both agreed that the question of where to go from here could wait for tomorrow. They had found their way to each other and for now that was enough.


	3. Chapter 3

3\. Murder she wrote

As she did just about every day at exactly 4 o'clock in the afternoon, Lou Beecham picked up her wide brimmed straw hat from its perch on the antique hat-stand, retrieved her house keys from their place in the console drawer by the front door; locked up and set off down the short garden path and out the front gate. Every day, weather permitting, the sixty-six year old retiree left her home - a quaint whitewashed one bedroom bungalow with surrounding hedge. Following the winding road from the lonely house at the top of a hill and down into Port Royal's town centre, Lou was a familiar figure often dressed in loose white linen clothes, and carrying a wooden walking cane.

Her daily jaunt typically involved a stroll along Peter Bay, with a stop on the pier where she would gaze out onto the water observing local fishermen hauling in their catch. Although the small fishing town saw its share of tourists, it wasn't as busy or populous as Honore – the other section of the municipality; and retained even more of the pristine beauty of the island. One stop Lou made every day was at the only pastry shop in town that served a proper English tea and baked a proper English scone. The owner Marjorie Benta had been a friend since Lou first arrived in Port Royal six years prior, with all her belongings contained in two leather bound suitcases.

Marjorie was a local, born and raised on St. Marie however her genius as a pastry chef had earned her fame beyond the small island's boundaries. The tourists that did come to the quiet coastal town would flock to the little shop up on an embankment overlooking the waterfront, nestled among a row of other small businesses that lined what was essentially the high street. Among the establishments was Margie's bakery, a tackle shop, an estate agent's that doubled as a travel bureau, and a small safety deposit company.

At that time of day, foot traffic in and out of the shop was mostly to the counter, with customers picking up freshly baked dinner rolls or sweet treats for after supper dessert. Leaving her assistant in charge, Marjorie would join Louisa at an empty table on the patio and the two women chatted over a cup of tea.

Lou had come to be in Port Royal by accident really. As she'd approached retirement, being a spinster with no real family to speak of, she'd considered the many options for community living which were becoming increasingly popular - nothing had really appealed to her. By a chance occurrence, she'd spotted an inconspicuous sign at a travels agent's, which advertised a quaint little house for sale in a quiet corner of 'paradise', as the advert had touted.

Listening to her friend's cheery chatter about the latest goings on the island, Lou felt very lucky. She had her independence and a close community of a few good friends. Here she felt she belonged, she felt safe – which was why she'd been troubled of late and was considering going to the police with her concern.

'Is sumting di matter Lou?' Marjorie asked in her thick afro-Caribbean accent. Lou wanted to tell her friend what was troubling her, but decided against it not wanting to bother Marjorie.

'I'm just feeling a little light headed…I'll be fine' Lou assured her. She forced a smile, reaching over to pat the other woman's weathered hands which were clasped together and resting on the table between them. 'Are you sure…?' Marjorie persisted, grasping Lou's hand in one of hers. Lou insisted she was fine and that she probably just needed a lie down, 'Maybe I over exerted myself…' she said lightly. At that, Marjorie insisted that her husband Henry should drive Lou back.

Later that evening after Lou woke from a nap feeling better; she recounted the scene yesterday that had alarmed her. Lou's bungalow was built on an incline so that her roof was roughly at the same level as that of the grand mansion that had recently been built across a small valley from her. While the east side of the bungalow's circular verandah faced the mountains; the west side was squarely opposite the second level of the mansion. When the wide patio doors were thrown open Lou could see well inside the elegantly decorated lounge; and depending on the direction the wind was blowing, conversation clearly carried over to where she stood. Now she decided she would definitely go to the police in the morning to report what she'd witnessed the night before.

'Morning Sarge!...' came a cheerful greeting from the balcony as Florence briskly climbed up the concrete steps to the Honor Police station.

It was a beautiful morning as most mornings were on the idyllic island. Red and white blossoms on hibiscus bushes that had been planted around the grounds were just opening up to be kissed by the sun; a pair of noisy bullfinches perched in a nearby mango tree happily joined in the chorus of greeting.

Florence looked up, raising her hand to shade her eyes from the early morning sun's glare. 'Welcome back JP!' she called out, waving to him and taking the last couple of steps two at a time. 'How is Rosie...', the Sergeant joined him at the top of the steps '…and how are the boys?' she enquired.

'Doing very well, thank you Sarge' JP replied smiling widely. 'Rosie is loving the new job' he said; to which Sergeant Cassel gave two thumbs up. Rosie Hooper, JP's wife had joined the staff of the local newspaper _the St. Marie Times_ just before their sons were born. Now with the twins being old enough for their grandparents to help with babysitting, she'd started working part time at the paper, and was eager to get her feet wet.

It had all come about a couple of years back after Rosie left her modelling career and she and JP had gotten married; she'd decided to return to college and finish her journalism degree. After the recent arrest of the newspaper's Editor in Chief (found to have murdered his wife, in a re-opened eight year old investigation), with the sudden departure of two other staff members; Tony Garret - a veteran journalist with the Times, had taken over operations. He'd needed to act quickly to save the paper from closure; hiring a small staff to fill the vacancies. There were two experienced writers on board and he took on two new hands, one of which was Rosie.

JP mentioned to the Sergeant that Rosie's first big assignment would be to write a piece for the paper's society section; covering the upcoming Governor's fundraising ball in Guadeloupe. 'It's going to be quite an extravagant event…the Inspector will be attending I think' JP said, '…and that means I'll be on duty' he said mysteriously. 'Really?...I wasn't aware extra officers were requested…' DS Cassel said sounding puzzled; 'Nappy duty' he clarified with a mock salute, and she made a sympathetic face.

As they entered the building the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted over. Emerging from the kitchenette area, Officer Dwayne Meyers walked over and handed each of them a beaker. 'Ah, thank you! – Good morning Dwayne' said Florence, taking a satisfied sip before settling down at her desk to check the central email box, and her schedule for the day.

'So, JP - how does it feel to be back?' Dwayne asked his partner, leaning casually against the desk. 'It feels really good Dwayne', JP replied as he absently rifled through a neat stack of papers on his desk and then started rummaging around in the desk drawer, looking perplexed. 'It'll be even better when I can find my things...' JP's voice trailed off. He stood up from his seat, looking around the room in apparent confusion. 'Does anyone know where… _everything_ is'? he asked, scratching his head '…My notebooks, files, _pens_..?'

'…Oh!' said Dwayne rather shortly, striding around the desk and towards the storage cabinet, 'That would be Winston…'. Officer Winston Lively had been Officer JP Hooper's temporary reliever while he'd taken a few weeks off on family leave. Having transferred from the presumably more modern and sophisticated Headquarters in Guadeloupe; Lively an otherwise nice enough fellow, had spent the better part of his time at the Honore station intent on 'improving' the way his colleagues did things. Had he not been so set on that mission, he might have observed that there was a definite method to the team's fast-paced and unrelenting technique – that their operation ran like a well-oiled machine, in fact.

'He made it a point to organize things before he left' Dwayne explained, using air quotes around the word _organize_. 'See – he arranged everything in here…', Dwayne opened the cabinet door, displaying rows of stationery and other supplies all neatly lined up in labeled compartments; 'What was it he called it…?' Dwayne thought for a bit with his finger on his cheek, '…six 's's and five 'y's?' he pondered 'or was it…six 'ys and five…ah forget it!' he ended with an irritable wave of his hand. 'Whatever it he calls it, he is a real stickler for order – sorting and straightening up everything he could get his hands on!'. Pointing to the row of metal filing cabinets along the wall next to the Inspector's desk, Dwayne continued in mild annoyance 'Do you know he even set up a new system for logging case files – and don't get me started about the basement…he had a field day down _dere_!'

Florence looked up from her monitor and chuckled, 'So what Dwayne is saying JP, is that he's _reeeally_ glad to have you back'.

'Wait…..' JP said suddenly, 'Does anyone know what he did with the notebooks and the folders that were in _my_ desk drawer…?' he looked back and forth at his two colleagues imploringly. Putting his hands on his head he said; ' _Please_ don't tell me he threw them away!...', sounding desperate.

Clearing her throat, and without looking up, Florence stretched out a leg slowly pushing out a cardboard box from underneath her desk. 'We saved them for you…' she said with a small smile. Relief flooded JP's face 'Thank you, thank you, thank you!', he said, retrieving the box protectively.

'…Just in time, I might add' said Dwayne. 'You know…' he paused pensively, 'they must not be very busy over at Headquarters. Or maybe they're over-staffed! …Whatever it is, they seem to be more interested in 'how' to do the job than _actually doing di job_!' Dwayne exclaimed. 'The only good thing that came out of the whole clean up business is that we found a bunch of brand new books that we could donate to the library!'

'Oh?' Florence asked with interest, 'what sort of books?'

'Oh - um, some kind of murder mysteries I think' Dwayne replied. 'Wait… I'll just run down and get them'; Dwayne's voice faded as he headed down to the basement.

'The Inspector's running late this morning?' JP half queried, half observed. Checking her watch, Florence said lightly 'Inspector Mooney's daughter is home for the summer, and I think she was leaving for a field trip this morning…perhaps something held them up…?'. JP looked up from the files he was studying, nodding in acknowledgment.

Florence thought how different it was when she and the Inspector were alone together, away from work. She was Florence and he was Jack, and they were just two people very much in love. One of her favorite things they did together was lie on the beach pointing out cloud shapes and coming up with hilarious endearments for each other. Jack's favourite for her was his _snuggy woogems_ which always made Florence laugh. He was _mon chou_ \- her sweet bun. Jack evidently liked that so much, he would ask her again and again to repeat it as he responded with silly orgasmic sounds, causing her to laugh even harder.

At work though Jack addressed Florence mostly as 'Sergeant Cassel', and he was 'Detective Inspector' or 'Sir'. Although there were no outright rules against romantic relationships between co-workers, affairs between officers of differing rank were frowned upon, largely to protect the junior officer from retaliatory or punitive treatment in the event a relationship was to end unamiably. Florence and Jack had considered all of this and as they were part of a small close-knit unit, with the Commissioner's at times hawkish interest in overseeing their work; they'd both agreed for the time being to continue to be discrete.

Dwayne returned just then, carrying a full banker's box 'Here they are!' he cried jubilantly, breaking the Sergeant's reverie.

The three of them curiously inspected the contents of the box. There were a few dozen pocket-sized paperbacks, all by the same author. 'Death in Paradise - The case of the missing mirror…' JP picked up the book and flipped through the first few pages. He continued reading out loud '…To the St. Marie Police, compliments of Stonemill Publishing Company, London England - two thousand and eleven'. 'Hmm…Death in Paradise - the case of the penny pincher' Florence read another title '…and it has the same note from the publishing house…this one is from two thousand and twelve'. Opening one of the books to the first chapter she began to read, walking slowly over to sit at her desk. 'These stories are set right here in St. Marie…!' she said in fascination.

'The case of the vengeful voodoo priest…' Dwayne read another title aloud, 'Oh I remember this one!' he cried '…only it was technically a voodoo priestess' he said wryly.

'Do you know anything about the books Dwayne...how they got here?' Florence asked.

'No idea…' he replied, then realization seemed to slowly dawn on him '…Wait a minute!' he said; 'these all were sent from the publishers to the station- right? so they must have come in the mail…?', JP and Florence nodded expectantly as Dwayne continued '…My guess is – all these years, the books have been arriving and Mr. Garcin must have just been storing them down in the basement…. assuming no one was interested!' Monsieur Garcin was the station's long time caretaker. He was also in charge of picking up the Station's mail from the central post office.

Dwayne snapped his fingers 'Check the inside cover!' he cried and he flipped to the last page of one of the books, excitedly holding it up for them to see. There in black and white was the photograph of a woman.

'Says here – the author moved to Port Royal, St. Marie in twenty eleven', Florence summarized the brief bio '...a retired school teacher from Essex, England…her stories are _inspired by real cases_! ...Is that why these copies were sent to us...?' pondered Florence.

'That's odd…if we didn't even know she exists, how is she writing stories inspired by cases?' Dwayne sounded perplexed 'I mean, I would remember meeting an author who wrote about _us_!' Dwayne said straightening his uniform smartly. 'Hold on Dwayne…', interjected Florence 'sorry to disappoint you but…I read on a bit and it looks like her stories are from the view point of a lady sleuth - a Miss Standish'.

Dwayne blustered 'You mean like a Ms. Marple, or Jessica Fletcher type of thing?' .

'Yup…' Florence nodded.

'But where is she getting her information ...or should I say _inspiration_ from?' Dwayne asked.

'The newspaper…' JP answered conclusively '…well… _must_ be!', he continued. 'Ever since Rosie started with the Times, I've been paying more attention to their articles. I hadn't realized this before, but the paper's crime and justice section does some pretty comprehensive reporting on big cases, especially those involving murder'.

'But who's their source? _I've_ never talked to anyone at the paper' Florence sounded puzzled, looking back and forth between the other two officers. There was a brief pause before the three of them said almost in unison, '…Commissioner Patterson!'

Florence held up the book's inside back cover at arm's length, squinting to get a better look. 'It's not a very good photograph …' she mumbled, bringing the image closer then farther away again. The stately looking woman in the photo was wearing a severe skirt suit, it looked like khaki but Florence couldn't be sure. She was standing in front of a hedgerow against a backdrop that Florence recognized as St. Marie's topography.

'Her style of clothing appears severe, her expression looks pleasant and at the same time _no nonsense_. She looks to be in her… hmm… late fifties?...' Florence continued, oblivious to the quiet in the room.

'Ehm…. Sarge...' Dwayne began; Sergeant Cassel did not seem to have heard him. She continued to peer at the photograph, speaking slowly '…sensible shoes!' she observed, '…from the looks of it, I would say she is indeed a...'

'Standing at the door of the station right now…?' JP interjected.

'…school teacher' the Sergeant concluded; glancing up quickly in confusion at JP's words. Before she could enquire further, she realized what he'd meant. Right there in the doorway, stood a lady who looked strikingly similar to the one in the photograph. It took a few seconds for Florence's brain to reconcile the fact that this was indeed the same person, dressed almost identically to the way she was in the photo as a matter of fact, except that she was currently wearing a hat.

Sergeant Cassel stood up; 'Miss May…?' she asked, tentatively. The woman stepped over the threshold. 'Good morning…' she said briskly, nodding to the sergeant and the other two officers. Her eyes drifted towards the book in Sergeant Cassel's hand and she raised an eyebrow quizzically 'I see the police appear to have taken an interest in my books…?' her tone was prim. Not waiting for a response, she continued 'My name is Louisa Beecham - May is my pen name', she explained 'it was my mother's maiden name actually'. She sniffed demurely, 'I appreciate the compliment by the way; I'm sixty-six' she directed the last part to the other woman. Florence observed that despite her petite stature, and the fine wrinkles around deep set piercing grey eyes, Miss Beecham had a commanding presence. Perhaps it was her aquiline nose, or the thin set line of her mouth, or maybe just her demeanour that reminded you of detention and times tables.

Having recovered from her initial surprise, Sergeant Cassel smiled politely at the woman's apparent attention to detail. Keen to get to the bottom of the unexpected visit, Florence set the book down on the table and approached her; 'Please forgive my reaction, we literally just…er… _discovered_ the books your publisher had been sending to the station all these years – so it is very surprising to see you here – _now_!'. Sergeant Cassel invited the visitor to take a seat. She obeyed silently, sitting then smoothing out her skirt in front of her. She set her hat down on her lap, both hands clutching its brim. 'How can we assist you Miss Beecham?' the Detective Sergeant enquired.

Jack was running half an hour late this morning; delayed because he'd opted to wait and meet Professor Ian McClain, the researcher leading the group that Siobhan was joining for a two day field study in the interior of St. Marie's rainforest. Siobhan was entering final year at University, and would soon be a step closer to achieving her dream of becoming an ornithologist. It was fortuitous that she'd connected with the highly experienced team of scientists that were heading to St. Marie around the time she would be home for the summer holidays. After reviewing her cv and the outline of her research thesis, Professor McClain had recognized her academic distinction and had been more than happy to have Siobhan on board for the trip.

Professor McClain's flight from Monserrat to Guadeloupe had been delayed due to engine problems so he hadn't made it in as scheduled. He'd eventually arrived earlier that morning, so their departure time had been pushed back. Hence Jack was delayed getting to the station. He was glad to have met the members of the team his daughter would be going with on the two day long trek. Jack knew that Siobhan was a competent young woman but it was still with a fair amount of fatherly trepidation that he'd bid her farewell.

His taxi was a minute away from the station when Jack's mobile phone began to buzz. 'Inspector Mooney, it's Sergeant Cassel'; he could hear the urgency in her voice 'Sergeant Cassel, is everything alright?' he said.

'There's someone here at the station sir – a Miss Beecham. She came in a short while ago; may be in some kind of trouble…but she says she will only talk to you' Florence explained. By this time, he was just about jumping out of the taxi as he responded, 'Okay…I'm just outside- on my way up right now'.

The Inspector sensed a tension as he entered the station. To relax things a bit, he good-naturedly launched into a stream of apologies for his lateness, beginning to explain the reason why he'd been held up, then cutting off midway; '….Anyway never mind all that, I won't bore you any further…'; extending his hand to the visitor he said - 'Detective Inspector Jack Mooney; you've met Detective Sergeant Cassel, Officers Meyers… and Hooper' he said; '…and you must be Miss Beecham'; Jack inclined his head waiting for her confirmation. She acknowledged with a nod.

After the introductions and Jack's assurances to their visitor that she could speak freely in the presence of all of them, he repeated Florence's earlier invitation to the older woman 'So…how can we assist you?' he said.

'I'm here to report a murder' she stated firmly. The room was quiet as everyone waited for her to continue. When she didn't speak, Jack looked around at the others as if to confirm that he'd heard her correctly; 'A murder, you said?' he asked. 'Yes' she replied.

'And… just when did this murder take place?' Jack probed, studying the woman carefully as he waited for her answer. By now Florence had brought out her notebook and was beginning to write down every word of the interview.

'Two nights ago' she replied '…at least I'm almost certain of it'.

Attempting to put her at ease, Jack offered her something to drink - a glass of water, or a cup of tea. She declined politely. Probably could have done with something stronger poor thing, he thought. She was white as a sheet. He tried again 'Can you start from the beginning...tell us everything you know…?'

After glancing towards the doorway as if to be sure no one was eavesdropping, Louisa Beecham began to recount the events of the last few weeks. How she had been curious when the couple had moved into the new house across the valley from her. She observed that they appeared to be well off; they didn't entertain or anything, no visitors coming and going except for a woman who must be the housekeeper, and a gardener who she'd seen around the grounds. The house itself was built only recently in a sleek ultra-modern style complete with fancy electronically controlled gate and doors from what she could see. They'd kept to themselves, had seemed almost hostile towards her, ignoring her neighbourly greetings. The front of their house squarely faced one side of her balcony, and they seemed to resent this.

At this point Detective Inspector Mooney interjected with a gentle prompt, 'So …something happened; something…changed..?'

'Yes, well…' she adjusted in her seat; 'Two days ago…I had arrived back home from my daily walk into town. After I'd locked up for the night, I realized that the book I'd been reading was left out on the verandah. I went out to get it and that's when I heard them….they were having an argument' she paused. 'It sounded really violent; there was a crashing noise and the sound of a struggle…'

'And you're sure it was not an intruder…' asked Sergeant Cassel

'I heard only the two voices…hers and his' she replied turning towards the Sergeant. 'I heard her – the woman, cry out, then I heard him say 'I'll kill you first' …those were his exact words… 'I'll kill you first'. She paused to collect herself, 'shortly afterwards, the man walked over to close the patio doors and he drew the curtains; and I've not seen either of them since' she said.

Inspector Mooney thought for a moment then asked, his tone gently probing, 'Now, has anyone else come or gone from the house since then…that you know of?'. She said she hadn't seen anyone, and noted that although their housekeeper usually came in on Tuesdays, she'd not shown up the day before. It was clear that Louisa Beecham thought her mysterious neighbour had murdered his wife and had more than likely left the island by now…getting away with it. She was anxious for the Police to stop him.

Sergeant Cassel asked the woman if she would be able to give a description of the couple. She did even better, pulling something out of her suit's breast pocket. It was a photograph of a man and woman getting out of a sporty electric car. The image was a bit blurry but good enough for a start. Louisa Beecham admitted to having snapped it on a whim a few days after her new neighbours arrived. The man and woman in the picture looked to be in their mid-forties; both quite attractive in appearance and dressed in casual but expensive looking clothes.

I know you think I'm probably imagining things, maybe because of the books I write…' she started to say. 'Oh, you're an author…?' the Inspector asked with interest. Dwayne handed him one of the thin paperbacks from the box on the desk. He flipped through from cover to cover; 'Remarkable stuff! – did you know of this…? He asked his colleagues, holding up the book he was holding.

'We just found out…' Sergeant Cassel offered.

The Inspector nodded in acknowledgment; the subject of their exchange spoke up 'I started writing the short stories a little while after I arrived here. It was a good way to pass the time…and I was lucky to find a small publisher back in England that liked the idea…it's not much, but I welcome the extra income' she said.

'The books do have a small following in Britain, but are not so well known on the island….I think the library doesn't carry them because they don't want people to see St. Marie as the _murder capital of the Caribbean_ ' she explained' …although if you ask me that may have an appeal to some people' she said practically. 'Anyway, as a curtesy I 'd asked the publisher to send a copy each to the St. Marie Times and to you - seeing as this is _where_ most of the story ideas are drawn from….' she said.

'I know what I saw and heard Inspector. I wasn't imagining it. He said was going to kill her, and now they've both disappeared' she asserted.

Detective Inspector Mooney's response was to assure Louisa Beecham that the police would get to the bottom of it. Once they had her contact information, a taxi was called to take Miss Beecham home with a promise from the Inspector that his team would be heading to Port Royal that same day to investigate.

The Inspector was as fascinated by the books as the rest of the team had been. 'What are we going to do with them all?' he asked. Dwayne replied 'I was thinking we could donate them to the library…but given what she said…..I guess not!'

Jack and Florence left the station shortly afterwards. Jack, who was doing the driving that day, turned the brown Honore Police jeep onto the long stretch of highway in the direction of Port Royal.

Jack had filled Florence in on the morning's events when he'd dropped his daughter off at the Botanical Gardens. Florence asked after Siobhan, wondering if the young woman had been nervous about the trip. 'Honestly…' Jack gave a little laugh, 'I think I'm far more worried about the whole thing than she is' he admitted. Florence smiled reassuringly at that. They drove in silence for a while.

As they crossed the sign marking ten miles to their destination; she asked 'What do you think about our Miss Beecham… do you think she might be right...that something _did_ happen as she suspects?'. Jack thought for a moment; 'I don't know Florence…, but for everyone's sake I'm hoping she was mistaken'.

The jeep pulled into the row of parking along Peters Bay. Standing at the top of the embankment overlooking the bay, DS Cassel and Inspector Mooney agreed on their approach. First they would ask around town and try to find someone could provide details of the mystery couple's identity. They would head up to the house later. If it had been locked up and abandoned they would need to find someone who could let them in; perhaps a caretaker or a realtor connected to the property.

The short stretch of the main street was bustling with lunch time traffic consisting of locals, tourists and artisanal traders. The pair spotted a real-estate office up ahead and started to move towards the building with its white marquee sporting a bright orange sun that formed the 'o' in the words 'Tropical Escapes' appearing in bold cursive font. 'What type of car did Miss Beecham say the couple was driving…', Florence asked, craning her head and appearing to look at something as they walked along.

'I don't think she did say…', Jack replied, 'but….' he drew something out of his jacket pocket, turning it around in his hands to hold it upright. Florence leaned in as they both studied the photo. They could make out the Mercedes logo on the front grill of the sports car. 'Bingo!' Florence said pointing across the street. The car was parked in front of a safety deposit building. Jack nodded, and signaled for them to split up, Florence continued to the realtor's office, and Jack crossed the street towards the car.

When Detective inspector Mooney arrived at the estate agents, he wasn't surprised to see DS Cassel sitting beside the man in the photo speaking to the proprietor. They all stood up as he approached; Florence made the introductions 'Detective inspector Mooney; this is Mrs. Lemore and Mr. James Levinson'.

'From what Sergeant Cassel here tells me, I'm under some kind of suspicion related to my wife..?' the man said incredulously; his accent distinctly American. 'As I explained and as Mrs. Lemore can affirm- my wife could not be doing an better!'. 'Here, I'll show you', he held out his phone showing the Inspector a picture of a smiling woman holding two fingers up in a peace sign; 'My wife is in L. A and sent me that picture just now, while we were sitting right here! …I asked her to, after the Sergeant explained why you were looking for us' he said.

'It appears Sir, that this has all been one big misunderstanding' Sergeant Cassel clarified to Inspector Mooney. 'Mrs. Mia Levinson or as we might know her _Mia Remy_ is a Hollywood actress, and Mr. Levinson…' she indicated towards the man '…is a movie director'. Jack made a silent 'Oh', continuing to listen as Sergeant Cassel explained. 'They arrived on the island a few weeks ago having made arrangements to buy the house in the valley through an agent…'

'Yeah…!' James Levinson interrupted, 'We needed a getaway…a place where no one knows either of us. Somewhere peaceful, you know…and this really is a beautiful island' he continued, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. It was easy to see that he was in the film business, he exuded a type of confidence one associates with affluence and influence. 'It seemed like a good place for what we needed. Mia had been under a lot of stress lately, and we had a new project coming up…she just wanted to be able to relax, run her lines, that sort of thing...'

DS Cassel took up the explanation of the events that occurred a few nights before. Apparently the couple had assumed they would have absolute privacy in their new holiday home. Their US agent had failed to tell them they would have a near neighbour, especially not one that seemed so curious as Miss Beecham. They were less than enthused once they arrived, concerned that she might draw unwanted attention to their presence on the island. The night Miss Beecham had thought he was threatening his wife; Mia had been rehearsing a scene for the new movie and James was helping by reading lines with her. All that Lou Beecham witnessed was some very convincing acting.

The Levinsons, realizing they had an audience that night, and irritated that they would not have the privacy they desired, decided to cut their trip short in an admittedly impulsive act of frustration. They left the next morning, a week ahead of schedule; ferrying over to Guadeloupe where Mrs. Levinson caught a flight back to Los Angeles. Jim Levinson had returned to Port Royal that day just to tie up business regarding the house - they would not proceed with the purchase after all. He would be catching a flight back to the United States later that night. Jim Levinson admitted with great chagrin that perhaps they could have been more tolerant towards their neighbour, whom he now recognized was completely harmless.

'Do you think we should pay Miss Beecham a visit, let her know all's well…?' it was more a statement than a question from Sergeant Cassel. They were now back out on the main street and standing under the marquee for shade from the noon day sun. The Inspector, with a twinkle of mischief in his eye as he reached for Sergeant Cassel's hand, said 'May I?' and consulted the watch on her wrist. To any passerby the brief contact would have seemed casual enough, but the electricity they both felt from the touch was as thrilling now as it had been the first time they touched.

'It is…' he continued '…just about lunch time. What do you say Sergeant Cassel - it's a lovely day; would you care to grab something to eat, then we could make the walk up to see Miss Beecham?' Florence agreed, saying 'I like that idea!'

They surveyed their surroundings for options. Mouthwatering aromas filled the air around the street food vendors, and the long line ups in front of the stalls was evidence of their popularity. There was one fine dining establishment for which they would have needed a reservation. They settled on the pastry shop a few doors down; it looked quaint and homey, and the menu board outside promised that the day's special 'langouste and crudité' would be served with freshly baked bread sticks. Luckily, a table had just become available as they walked in.

The owner Marjorie was a jovial creole woman with curly salt and pepper hair which she wore in a braided crown. She served them with a friendly smile and cheery conversation, guessing right away that they were police officers. They complimented her on the place; the interior décor really captured the feel of the island and it was clear that her culinary repertoire extended well beyond pastries. The shop really was a hidden gem. 'What brings you to Port Royal…not any trouble I hope?' she asked curiously, as she placed each of their dishes down and set the bread between them, all plated on beautiful rustic crockery decorated with seaside motifs.

'No, not at all' the Inspector assured her pleasantly. 'We were just in the area for a routine check – on behalf of a …concerned citizen' Jack spoke lightly but chose his words carefully. 'It's not Lou is it…?' she asked intuitively, '…..ah hah it is! I suspected so…!' she said in a hushed voice, checking around to make sure the other patrons were not paying attention to them. They were seated close to the back of the shop, afforded a little privacy apart from the other tables.

' ...You know Miss Beecham?' Sergeant Cassel asked with interest. 'Of course!' she replied, 'Lou is a dear friend of ours - my husband and I…and well…' she paused, 'wait just a minute please'. She hurried off towards the counter, emerging moments later with a low stool that she shuffled over to where they sat. Once she was perched on the stool, she continued in a hushed voice, 'I'm so glad you're here you know, Henry and I have been worried 'bout 'er. She's been …well… a little strange lately. Distracted. Like she has something on her mind' she said wringing her hands.

The two officers exchanged glances; they could see that Marjorie was really concerned for her friend. 'I told her to go see a doctor, but she's so stubborn, insisting on boiling up her herbs and natural concoctions!' ' I tell er…I say _Lou- I was born and raised on this island but even I know when it's time to go see a doctor!'_ she recounted.

The Detective Sergeant assured their host that they would check in on her friend. She seemed relieved as she left them to finish their meal, which the Detectives insisted on paying for despite Margie's protestations.

As they moved away from the waterfront and towards the hills, the sheer beauty of the impressive mountain peninsular was breathtaking. Their pace was brisk, enabled by a cooling breeze that picked up as they ascended the gentle slopes. They walked side by side, strides matched; enjoying a companionable silence.

It was in moments like these that Jack felt humbled and eternally grateful. He didn't know what he must have done right somewhere in his past to have deserved this unexpected chance at happiness. He looked over at the object of his affection. Florence glanced at him just then, smiling radiantly as she brushed errant strands of hair away from her face, tucking then behind her ear. She slowed down to look back at the ground they'd covered, her eyes roving the glistening blue waters of the bay with admiration. He'd slowed when she did; wanting badly to take her hand and kiss the delicate skin at her wrist, but decided against it reminding himself that they were still on duty.

When they arrived at the valley separating the little bungalow they presumed to be Louisa Beecham's residence, and the mansion that had almost belonged to the Levinsons, the Inspector let out a low whistle. It was an impressive and beautifully built structure even by celebrity standards.

Miss Beecham opened her front door at about the fourth round of knocking. She was dressed as she'd been earlier that morning, though her suit looked crumpled as though she'd been lying down. They accepted her invitation to go inside, both noting her somewhat unsteady gait. She did appear unwell as her friend had feared. As they sat at her small dining nook, Florence enquired 'Are you alright Miss Beecham, is there someone we can call, should we call you a doctor…?

'You sound like Margie' she said, her small laugh turning into a gasping cough. After she'd recovered, said 'Oh I'm just a little tired, but I will see the doctor; I intend to go first thing in the morning'

'Now…do you have any news..?' she asked, looking at them expectantly.

The Detectives explained the story they'd got from Levinsons while she listened intently. 'Oh, dear, I'm so sorry to have wasted your time…" she said apologetically. They assured her it was no trouble and told her how James Levinson had expressed equal regret for the misunderstanding.

Before they left, the Inspector asked Lou to promise she would indeed see a doctor the following day, and in the meantime would keep her phone close in case she felt ill. She promised to do so and waved to them as they walked down the path to the front gate, admiring the colorful flower garden and vegetable garden on either side of the path.

The Inspector had forgotten all about his appointment at the outfitters, until the shop called with a reminder an hour ahead of time. They'd had just enough time to make it back to Honore. The purpose of his appointment was to pick out suitable black tie attire for the Governor's ball.

When he'd first arrived for a two week holiday on St. Marie, the last thing Jack would've imagined was that he needed to pack for a grand gala. With his two week stay now stretching into two years, he was about to attend his first of the triennial Governor's Ball. The party was being held in Guadeloupe that weekend and was one of the most prestigious social events held among the cluster of islands under the prefecture. The guest list usually consisted of diplomats, high ranking government officials, socialites and essentially the who's who across the spectrum of society. Commissioner Selwyn Patterson had wrangled an extra invitation, keen to show off the ranking member that would represent his talented St. Marie force. He'd showed up at the station a few weeks before, and insisted that the Detective Inspector go to the event. 'Do bring a guest Inspector Mooney, it would be expected…' he said in his deliberate drawl; 'You should bring Siobhan - she will be home soon for the holidays, is that correct?' he asked. The Inspector suspected he already knew the answer.

'Lovely girl, so bright and promising…you must be very proud of her' the Commissioner continued. Jack nodded, starting to speak but unable to get a word in edgewise. 'So- it's settled then!' the Commissioner's grim close mouthed smile indicated to Jack that it was, indeed settled. 'See you in Guadeloupe Inspector!' he'd called out over his shoulder as he strolled away leaving Jack to digest what had just transpired.

Florence dropped Jack off at the shop in town before driving to her class which was a few hundred meters from home. The Sergeant was learning capoeira. She'd developed an interest in the Brazilian martial art form after reading a book about it, and was fascinated by the history and power behind the movements. Jack had encouraged her to take the class, even going with her a few times in the beginning for moral support. He'd learned the basic moves along with her then; joking that he drew the line when it came to tumbling. She'd since become passionate about the art and was beginning to think of it as something she might one day herself be able to teach to kids at the youth center where Dwayne volunteered.

The next day when Detective Sergeant Cassel called up to check on Louisa Beecham, the woman sounded a little livelier than she'd been the previous day, and confirmed to the anxious Sergeant that she had indeed been to see a doctor who'd ordered a number of blood tests. It was otherwise a pretty mundane day at the station, just a neighbours' dispute and a purse snatching at the market for which the police had been called.

Towards the end of the day, Dwayne raised his head from his desk and said 'So Inspector, you all set for the big shindig tomorrow night?'; Inspector Mooney replied a little dryly 'Yes Officer Meyers, I suppose I am'. Sensing the Inspector's unease Dwayne added 'What, you don't like parties?'; 'No , no Dwayne it's not so much that I don't like parties' the Inspector replied, '…I'm just not sure of what I'm supposed to be doing at this one!'

'Ah never mind…' he continued, 'at least I'll get to know the 'who's who' over there, and …it's for a good cause' he ended on a practical note. He said suddenly 'Which reminds me, I best be off soon if I'm to pick up my suit…'; his hasty visit to the tailor's the day before had yielded success at quite a price. The dinner suit he'd settled on had needed some adjusting, so he was scheduled back at the shop to pick up the items. Siobhan would be relieved that he'd done as she had urged. She herself had been looking forward to attending the party and had gone shopping for a dress before she left London, clearly excited about the event.

He had just been thinking of his daughter when Jack saw that she was calling his mobile. He picked up, relieved that she was safely back within cellular coverage. Florence who was working at her desk across from his heard the Inspector say '…In an hour?, at the Botanical Gardens…oh…ok, ok bye love' as he ended the conversation with his daughter.

'I could pick Siobhan up Sir' the Sergeant offered. She deduced that the girl must be arriving within the hour which would be exactly the time that the Inspector was supposed to be picking up his suit. A small problem, but one she was more than happy to help with.

'I wouldn't want to trouble you with that Sergeant Cassel…' he began; but she interrupted him pleasantly, 'No trouble at all Sir, I can drop you off a little earlier and head up to meet Siobhan. We'll pick you up on our way down…' she concluded matter of fact;

'You would do that …you don't mind?' he asked. He was truly grateful. He knew how excited Siobhan was for the party - the suit was almost as much for her as for himself, he didn't want to disappoint her. 'It would be my pleasure, Sir' the Detective Sergeant said.

Florence enjoyed Siobhan's company. The girl's pleasant and down to earth nature much like her father's, made for easy conversation. Jack had sent Siobhan a message about the change of plan, so she was not surprised when Florence arrived to pick her up. She gave her father's colleague a happy hug introducing her to all the team members as they loaded their gear into waiting vehicles and prepared to disperse. They were all tired looking and bug bitten but mostly happy; it had been a very successful data gathering expedition. On the way back, Siobhan chatted enthusiastically about her experiences, she sounded very excited about returning to school to continue with the next analytical phase of her study. Florence listened with keen interest, chiming in with a question here and there or commenting from her experience when Siobhan would ask her opinion about an idea, or had a question about something.

Jack was just walking out of the outfitters when they arrived to pick him up. He waved at them, and the two women waved back; Siobhan with extra enthusiasm as always.

Jack would have liked Florence to spend more time with him and Siobhan but considering that Siobhan only saw her father when she came home at the holidays, Florence often demurred, insisting on giving the two time alone to catch up. Florence had wanted them to put off telling Siobhan about their burgeoning romance until the time seemed right and he respected her wish. On the occasions the three of them _did_ spend together, Siobhan seemed naturally drawn to Florence's warmth and energy, and Florence in turn enjoyed seeing how much the young woman had blossomed in the almost two years since they'd first met. Jack for one, was happy that his daughter had come to look upon Florence as a confidante. He smiled when he remembered the last time they'd been together - after dinner the two women had set off for a walk along the beach, heads bowed together in conversation and oblivious to his observation of them.

'Hello dad!' Siobhan said, hopping out of the car to give him a hug. 'You weren't worried about me were you?' she said with a hand on her hip. 'Dad, are you forgetting that we basically live thousands of miles apart for most of the year?' she said with feigned bravado. She'd missed him too.

'London, well that's a jungle all on its own, but a day's journey into the forest – that I know a little less about- so yes I was worried' he said honestly. 'Glad to have you back' he said climbing into the driver's seat of the jeep. 'And as wonderful as it was…I'm glad to be back dad' she said in a softened toned, reaching forward between the front seats to squeeze his shoulder.

'So, can I see your suit?' Siobhan asked, leaning forward towards Sergeant Cassel who was now sitting in the passenger seat. 'Florence, please tell me you helped him pick it out…' she pleaded. The other woman looked over at the Inspector and they both smiled knowingly, not responding to Siobhan's playful dig. 'Brrr, am I the only one that's cold? do you mind rolling the windows up please?' she said fishing inside her backpack for the stole she'd used as a coverlet when it got chilly overnight in the forest. They wound all the windows up, shielding the inside of the vehicle from the whipping wind as they sped along the highway towards home. Snuggled up on the back seat and wrapped in the coverlet, Siobhan mumbled 'You should wear the blue tie I got you on your birthday dad…oh wait never mind, it's a black tie party…'

Siobhan yawned loudly 'Sorry…I'm exhausted' she said, muffling another yawn. Jack asked her how they'd managed on the overnight campout; Siobhan responded that they'd barely slept, working through most of it. Where she had been collecting data, taking fossil measurements and the like, the rest of the team had been collecting samples related to their various disciplines: geophysics, atmospheric chemistry and botany. Their work was not only arduous but also time sensitive so they'd needed to work quickly.

Siobhan's words were becoming more slurred as she spoke and at first Jack thought she was just sleepy; until she spoke up, her voice barely above a croaky whisper from the back seat 'My head really hurts, and I feel sore all over…' . Both Jack and Florence turned around sharply in response; Florence reaching back to feel her forehead. '… and I'm so sleepy' Siobhan muttered, struggling to suppress another yawn and wincing as the action seemed to aggravate the headache.

Thankfully they were just arriving at the shack. Jack and Florence jumped out of the jeep, helping Siobhan out. Her skin was hot to the touch and she was shivering violently. Siobhan was vaguely aware of stumbling up the steps and of being helped onto her bed. She heard her dad on the phone with someone, sounded like he was talking to the doctor. She couldn't be sure, everything sounded distant, like her head had been wrapped in a wad of thick cotton wool. Siobhan felt someone put a cool cloth to her forehead; she thought it must be Florence. She managed to open her eyes a little; her head was pounding so hard her eardrums actually hurt. Through heavy eyelids the room was a shadowy blur, and she could not make out definite shapes only outlines that started to swirl in dizzying circles until everything suddenly went black.


	4. Chapter 4

4\. Pease porridge

Daylight shone brightly through the unshaded window of the narrow bedroom. Siobhan could sense the light and warmth through closed eyelids, as she lay there listening to the familiar sounds of the waves lapping gently against the beach outside. Birds chirped in the palm trees that stood outside her window and she heard a dog bark in the distance. She gingerly opened one eye then the other, relieved that the blinding headache of the night before was now only a memory.

Harry their pet lizard was standing on the window sill, staring straight at her with his head cocked to one side. She managed a weak smile at the reptile who promptly ran off to continue doing whatever it was reptiles did all day. She looked down at the t-shirt and shorts she was wearing; realizing that she'd somehow changed out of her trekking clothes from the day before.

Moving very gingerly, she slid out of bed putting one foot first, then the other down on to the wooden floor boards. Siobhan got up carefully, holding on the little bedside table for support as a wave of nausea hit her. Her legs were wobbly and she still felt her joints ache but she suspected the worst was over. Her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her that she had not eaten for many hours. She remembered someone, her dad she guessed, holding a cup containing a cool liquid to her lips throughout the night, urging her to drink. Her tummy rumbled again; she was famished.

Siobhan cautiously made her way out onto the verandah, holding on to the walls and then the door jamb for support. Her dad did not seem to be around and the house was quiet. Sergeant Cassel was half lying across the love seat in the sitting room. Siobhan could tell from the clothes she was wearing that she spent the night in the chair; the throw which she must have used for warmth during the night had slipped halfway off her shoulders, and she was fast asleep. Siobhan tiptoed around to kitchen trying as best as possible not to wake the Sergeant.

'You're awake…' Florence said opening her eyes and sitting up with a slow stretch, working the kinks out of her shoulder from the awkward position she'd fallen asleep in. 'How do you feel?' she asked the girl as she stood up, folding the throw over the seat and straightening her clothes.

'Sorry Florence, I was trying not to wake you…' Siobhan said apologetically. Florence assured the girl that she's been only dozing.

' I feel like I've been tossed about by one of those massive breakers that just sneak up on you….' Siobhan replied to the earlier question, sinking with relief into one of the dining chairs. '…Definitely better than last night though. No more headache or fever, just a little nausea …and I'm starving' she said, smiling shyly.

Florence insisted Siobhan sit and rest while she busied herself preparing breakfast. 'The doctor gave you some injections last night to treat the fever and pain. Your father went into to town this morning to pick up the rest of your medicine and some electrolytes to keep you properly hydrated…'she said studying Siobhan with concern. Florence explained what the doctor had said after examining Siobhan; that she must have contracted a virus - probably insect borne. Her symptoms suggested a relatively mild strain of dengue fever. The symptoms would probably last a week or so; in the meantime the recommendation was plenty of rest and fluids to ensure a full recovery.

The girl made a face as she sat down to the thin oatmeal gruel. She wasn't a fan of the porridge but accepted Florence's advice to start with plain foods until her stomach had settled. They sat at the table; Florence sipped a cup of strong coffee while the girl ate the simple meal. When she'd finished eating, Florence cleared the table and began to wash the dishes. 'Thank you Florence…, for everything' Siobhan said; they both knew she was talking about more than just breakfast.

Detective Inspector Mooney arrived shortly afterwards with several grocery bags in tow. He was relieved to see that Siobhan was up. Once he'd deposited the bags on the table, he proceeded to check how she was feeling, handing her the next scheduled dose of medication and fussing exaggeratedly over her; causing the two women to chuckle.

Florence excused herself to allow father and daughter some privacy. She would leave soon, now that Jack had returned. As she passed by him on her way out to the verandah, he caught her hand and squeezed it. The look in his eyes and his quiet 'thank you' spoke volumes. She smiled, squeezing his hand back. For all Jack's light heartedness and easy manner, she knew he would do the same for her and more; such was the intensity of the commitment she experienced from him every day. Even in the little things, he put her first; always more concerned about what _she_ wanted, what _she_ needed. She often thought how lucky she was that they shared such unequivocal love for each other.

The sound of voices announced the approach of Catherine Bordey and Officer Dwayne Meyers even before they emerged from around the bend in the shoreline. They waved at Sergeant Cassel as they approached the shack. Exchanging greetings out on the verandah, the two explained that they had heard about Siobhan's illness from someone who'd heard from someone who'd run into the Inspector at the pharmacy and they'd come to check in on her.

They all headed into the small living area; the Sergeant hanging back and allowing Dwayne and Catherine to go ahead of her. Florence was not surprised by the impromptu visit; their's was a small community were just about everyone knew and was concerned for each other. She guessed that Officer Hooper would also stop by later that morning on his way back from the scuba classes he taught on weekends at one of the popular training centers on the island.

Siobhan was lying back on the loveseat, sipping coconut water from a glass and chatting with Catherine and Dwayne. The morning's activity was beginning to take its toll and she was looking sleepy again. 'It's a shame you all will miss the big party over in Guadeloupe tonight, eh?' lamented Dwayne. 'You sure this wasn't part of di plan to get more people not to go?' he joked to Catherine; she gave an appalled gasp; 'Dwayne! how could you say that?' she drawled.

'Well, I just think people will find it strange that the _Mayor_ of St. Marie will not be attending the Governor's ball…I'm just saying' he shrugged.

'Oh no-o-o-o' Siobhan lamented, 'I feel so terrible Dad– I really wanted you to go to the ball...and I was looking forward to it!' Jack placed his hand on her shoulder, 'I know you were, and I was sort of starting to myself' he admitted with a rueful smile. 'But…the most important thing right now is for you to rest, and get better' he said affectionately placing his hand on her cheek.

Siobhan eyes brightened suddenly, as she struggled to sit up 'I know!... you should take Florence to the ball, Dad' she cried. Catherine clapped her hands together, the delicate bright bangles on her wrists making a clinking sound, 'That's a wonderful idea!' she exclaimed.

'Now, hold on…'Jack interjected as the two women started discussing the idea enthusiastically. 'Wait a minute Siobhan, much as I would have liked to go, I'd need to check with Sergeant Cassel first…and even then there's absolutely no way we would leave you here alone, especially not when…'

'Who said she would be alone?' Catherine asked pleasantly; 'I think it's a perfect idea!' she continued, ignoring his protest 'I'll stay here with Siobhan, and you will take Sergeant Cassel to the party; _ça marche!_ ' she concluded, snapping her fingers.

Florence had just come in from the verandah to see what all the commotion was about. Dwayne gave her the cliff note version of the new developments. She gathered that she and Jack were supposed to be going to Guadeloupe that evening, and Catherine would stay and make sure Siobhan was alright. The young woman was already looking better and had normal color back in her cheeks, as she stood up to head back to bed.

Florence and Jack looked uncertain about the plan, and they were both obviously exhausted from having just passed a sleepless night. Catherine insisted all the more that they should both get some rest so they could be ready for the evening. She herself would go home and make arrangements for someone on her staff to manage things at the bar, and she planned to return later with a generous helping of her chicken soup for Siobhan's supper. At the mention of that, DS Cassel and Officer Meyers exchanged a doubtful look; Catherine's soup was notoriously … interesting… for want of a better word.

The deal appeared to be done and Siobhan looked very pleased. In a show of chivalry; bowing with a flourish Inspector Mooney said 'Sergeant Cassel, it would be most pleasing to me if we would attend the Governor's ball together; would you do me the honor?' his tone was suddenly serious; his last phrase carried a trace of a brogue. Three pairs of eyes turned from the Inspector to the Sergeant, as Dwayne, Catherine and Siobhan waited almost with baited breath for her response.

Florence chuckled at that; it wasn't as if she would have said _no_. Still, she looked squarely into the only pair of deep blue eyes in the room and said 'I would love to!'. The way the others burst into applause, you would have thought she'd just accepted a marriage proposal.

Soon afterwards, as she was driving home, she shook her head at the absurdity of the last twenty-four hours. To be perfectly honest she was in something of a daze and exhausted and she guessed Jack must be as well. It had been a roller-coaster as they'd been up until the early hours of the morning worried sick about Siobhan. The fever had wracked the girl's body in violent convulsions and Florence had helped Jack change her clothes twice when she became soaked with sweat. It was a relief that Siobhan seemed to have pulled through the worst of the illness, but she thought they should still keep close watch over her. As for the Gala, Florence wasn't sure what to expect. She'd heard about the event; her parents had attended in years past. From what she gathered it could end up being a stuffy affair with lots of meaningless small talk, or it might actually be interesting.

By the time the Detective Inspector was dressed and ready to leave for the evening, Catherine was on her way with a pot of soup as promised. Siobhan had fished out some old movies from the collection left by the previous resident, their friend DI Humphrey Goodman. Opting for the comedies, Siobhan set out a selection from which she and Catherine could choose. Jack was relieved that his daughter seemed to be getting stronger by the hour, but he was still cautious and urged her to rest.

'You look so handsome, Dad' Siobhan said, proudly inspecting the black bowtie that was her handiwork. The lines of the smart three piece dinner suit complemented his angular features.

'Very handsome' the tall French woman concurred, as she just arrived at the door. 'Now hurry along, go and get your princess...' she said to Jack with a wink. Although tonight was technically a work related event for the Detective Inspector and Detective Sergeant Cassel, he noted with amusement that everyone else appeared to be treating it like a date. 'Remind me why the Mayor will not be attending tonight, Catherine?' he turned at the doorway and inquired, with a puzzled expression. 'Oh... I have my reasons…' she responded with a mysterious smile; then shooed Jack away with a frantic gesture towards the clock.

Later that night as Siobhan finished her second bowl of soup, and complemented the chef profusely, Catherine admitted two things – first that she had just been trying out a new chicken soup recipe which her daughter Camille had sent to her; apparently no one had had the heart to tell Catherine how awful her previous concoction used to be (she noted this with a mock pout); and secondly- Siobhan found out the real reason the Mayor had skipped the ball in Guadeloupe was that she got terribly sea sick and the thought of the rolling ferry ride made her queasy. Siobhan asked her if she'd tried any medicine for it. 'I suppose I should' she'd replied 'I think my sea sickness may be just an excuse for why I never leave St. Marie, but that's another story…' she quipped, as they settled down in front of the old television set.

Once Jack realized he would be taking Florence to the party, he'd made some quick changes to the plans. He rented a luxury coupe for the night; the old jeep just wouldn't do. Because their relationship remained discrete he rarely got to be so demonstrative, so he was happy for the opportunity to add a touch of elegance and comfort to the experience. Although the night had come about by accident, he was determined to do everything he could for Florence to have an enjoyable time.

When Jack arrived at the Cassel's home, Florence's mother Sylvia answered the door. They exchanged greetings and Sylvia enquired after Siobhan, having heard the story of what happened. They chatted briefly some more when Jack, following the direction of Sylvia's eyes to the top of the staircase saw Florence standing there. She smiled brilliantly at him; the look of desire that burned in Jack's eyes made her stomach flutter, and she held on to the bannister for support as she descended.

When Florence had arrived home that morning, she'd dropped onto her bed fully clothed and fallen fast asleep. Awakening some hours later, she'd decided to pamper herself, luxuriating in a relaxing bath, washing her hair and taking extra time to get ready for the evening. She wore an elegant midnight blue off-shoulder gown that showed off her beautifully sculpted shoulders; the beaded bodice following the slim line of her waist and the flowing chiffon skirt sweeping almost to the floor.

They drove down to the port and boarded the ferry for Guadeloupe. They remained in the car for the trip, watching the sun slowly descend into the horizon in burning purple and orange hues and talking quietly about nothing in particular; the hour long ride going by quickly.

The ball turned out to be quite enjoyable after all. Commissioner Paterson appeared pleasantly surprised to see the Detective Sergeant accompanying Detective Inspector Mooney. He expressed great concern once the Inspector briefly explained the events that led to his daughter not being able to attend, and asked Jack to wish Siobhan a speedy recovery on his behalf.

Other than the Commissioner proudly introducing the two as the St. Marie Police's newest dynamic duo - which caused them both to cringe with discomfort; the evening was pleasant. It was certainly a glamorous affair and Jack commented to Florence that he'd never met so many ambassadors, ministers and gold medal athletes in one sitting. She agreed. Rosie Hooper had spotted them when they'd arrived and came over to say hello and to request a photo and a few words that she could quote for her piece in the newspaper.

Throughout the evening Florence and Jack met and mingled with the other guests, but their eyes would often find each other across the ballroom. By the end of the night they'd both happily contributed to the fundraising campaign for the Children's Hospital centres located on each of the islands of the prefecture. When it was time to go, they said their good byes and headed away from the glitzy hotel in the beautiful Basse Terre city center, back towards the ferry terminal. 'Jack, were you able to reach Siobhan or Catherine, was everything okay'? Florence asked, as they mounted the ferry ramp. 'I sent a text message a while ago, all was well' Jack assured her 'Siobhan insisted she was feeling fine, so Catherine had gone home for the night'.

It was after midnight as they drove along the coast towards home. The tide was very low and a full moon shone like a spotlight in the clear sky, casting silvery white light over the sand and illuminating the sea. The night was nearly as bright as daylight. They stopped the car, took off their shoes and walked a short way along the shore, enjoying the stillness around them. Before they got back into the car, Jack reached over to Florence interlocking fingers with her. He brought her hand up to his lips and asked 'Did I tell you how amazing you look tonight…?', she laughed lightly, '…only about ten times!' she said. 'Well, make it eleven...' he smiled 'You look amazing mon coeur…' he said, taking both her hands in each of his and drawing her closer. Florence went to him, and as they stood facing each other she said '…And you, Detective Inspector look dashing tonight – tres beau, mon chou' she said in a sexy whisper. 'I've missed you ma belle…here…' he said, drawing her left hand up and placing it on his chest over his heart; '…here…' he continued, placing his hands on the curves of her hips and slowly moving her closer until their bodies were pressed together. Florence slid her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her, their lips met and parted in a hungry kiss.

It was about two weeks after the author of the Death in Paradise stories had showed up on the doorstep of the Honore Police station, when a cheerful 'good afternoon' sounded from the entryway. There once again stood Lou Beecham, this time clearly looking in better spirits than the first time they'd all met. 'May I come in?' she asked, cheeks flushed from her brisk walk up the station's stairway. 'Miss Beecham' exclaimed Inspector Mooney, 'Of course you may! …please'.

When she had come inside, greeted everyone and sat down, Sergeant Cassel remarked pleasantly 'If I might say Miss Beecham, you are looking very well', to which the older woman practically beamed.

'….Indeed!' the inspector agreed. 'So, to what do we owe the honor…?' he asked half-sitting on his desk across from Louisa.

'Well…' she began, 'I just wanted to tell you that I did go to the doctor, as promised. She ran some blood tests and it turns out I was being poisoned…' she said, '…well not actually _poisoned_ poisoned; not nefariously…' she added hastily, 'but I did have all the symptoms of slow cyanide poisoning'.

Surprised and evidently alarmed by the revelation, the others waited for her to go on. 'Mercifully, the doctor was able to start me on a dose of the antidote right away and I do feel so much better now…' She looked around the room, the next question evident on all their faces. 'So how did it happen?' JP spoke up first.

'I was wondering that very thing myself ….' Lou said, turning towards the young officer. 'Then, a few days afterwards, I was clearing out my refrigerator when it hit me – pease porridge!' She caught the Sergeant's questioning expression realizing she was probably not familiar with the dish; 'Pease porridge is an old fashioned vegetable pudding, perfect for the tropical climate I find…' she clarified. 'You see, I'd made a pot of the stuff as I usually do, using my own ingredients – but this time I'd used the yucca root I grow in my garden as a substitute in the recipe'.

Dwayne let out a low whistle, 'Now that's one ingredient you have to be careful with…' he said.

'That's correct Officer Meyers…' Lou agreed; 'I took a sample of the yucca in my garden and the porridge from my refrigerator over to the hospital lab – they were kind enough to indulge my inquiry; and my hypothesis was correct!' she concluded. 'So it was the porridge that did it…' added the Inspector; 'Yes!' said Lou, '…well the yucca to be exact'.

'Well Miss Beecham, thanks to your excellent powers of deduction you were able to prevent catastrophe', the Inspector commended her.

'Thank you Detectives, for indulging an old lady' Lou said graciously. 'Well, I won't take up any more of your time…' she said standing up to leave. 'By the way I was also in town for a meeting with Tony Garret at the Times. I wanted to let you all know that Ms. Standish has solved her last murder for now; instead I will be starting a new assignment as adjunct contributor with the Times', she said sounding pleased. 'But…if the Honore Police ever needs to team up with an old lady sleuth, you know where to find me' she said with a twinkle in her eye, then she was gone.

'Dad...' Siobhan said, raising her head which had been resting on her father's shoulder. They were sitting on the sand with their backs against the old motor boat beached outside the shack, and they were gazing up at the stars. 'Yes, Siobhan…' Jack responded, turning his head to look at his daughter.

'I hope you don't blame yourself for me getting sick…these things just happen – it's no one's fault' she said, her eyes searched his for affirmation. 'I know…' he said, putting his arm around her.

Content with his response, she rested her head back on his shoulder.

'And Dad…' she continued, '…I hope you know that Florence is very much in love with you'

The two of them sat in contented silence, gazing up at the thousands of twinkling lights that seemed to go on forever against the sky's inky blue backdrop.


End file.
